Mortal Gods
by The-Lady-Isis
Summary: Bruce is dead. Diana is lost. But with the soul of a princess as the prize, and Gotham City as the battleground, there is everything to fight for. Can anything redeem a fallen Amazon? Review please.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...you all know how this goes by now...**

**A/N: Ok, this whole story is going to be very, very dark. Just warning you now, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.**

**Mortal Gods**

**Prologue**

"Tell me."

"I thought you knew."

"Tell me anyway."

"She wasn't so bad, at first. Well, she wasn't coping, but she wasn't killing either. Not since the Joker. Until Dick."

"I know."

"Well I'm still not sure. What actually happened?"

"Harley. She knew she couldn't go after Diana, so she went for someone she cared about. Tim was in hiding by then, but Dick refused to abandon Bludhaven. He didn't come off too badly, considering."

"You call having his legs eaten not coming off too badly?"

"Better than Alfred."

"True, I guess."

"Carry on. What did Diana do?"

"Dropped Harley into the lion enclosure in Gotham Zoo. There wasn't much left once they'd finished. Police identified her with dental records. Once her teeth had passed through the lions' digestive systems."

"Did they confront Diana?"

"Of course. But it's not like they could arrest her."

"What about you? You're telling me you couldn't do anything?"

"We…I guess we didn't want to. Kept telling ourselves it was justified."

"And then?"

"Then…Alfred. I think…that must have been the final straw. The next time I saw her, she told me to get out of Gotham, but she was gone. It wasn't Diana anymore. She'd lost her mind. She killed Selina, you know."

"Yeah. I know."

"And…that's it. It's our fault, we didn't stop her in time, we didn't…"

"We weren't there for her."

"I must agree. Diana needed help, she needed her friends, but we just didn't notice. It was…is…an unforgivable lapse."

"And because she didn't have any of you to turn to…"

"She turned to him. And he drove her into the darkness."

"She let him."

"Even so, we should have never-"

"Stop, all of you. Stop blaming yourself, stop blaming Diana. This is my fault."

"So what do we do now?"

"The only thing we can do. We take her down."

**A/N: Hope I've whetted your appetites with that! Review please!**


	2. A City Named Gotham

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed! Glad you like the idea so far.**

**Chapter One – A City Named Gotham**

_I want it all. _

_I want it all. _

_And I want it now. _

_Listen all you people, _

_Come gather round, _

_Gotta get me a game plan,_

_Gotta shake it to the ground._

I Want It All - Queen

**Two Years Earlier**

All was not well on Olympus.

Nemesis, daughter of Nyx and goddess of vengeance had grown tired of her allotted duty: exacting the downfall of those who had undeserved good fortune, of those who profited from the misfortune of others. For millennia she had done her job, she had never complained, she had never taken a rest. In truth, she had not desired to rest. Vengeance was her life-blood, her very essence. The mortal world was a petty and vicious one – it had never been harmonious, never been _close _to it. Until now.

Until the Justice League, until Nemesis found _others _encroaching on _her _territory.

The solution she had found was simple. She would take away from the deserving. She would visit misfortune on the good as well as the evil. No one could stop her, not even Zeus, protected as she was by her mother. All the gods feared Nyx – she was the primal elemental of night. Of the dark.

Only one of the gods on Olympus would dare stand in Nemesis' way.

Apollo, god of the sun and prophecy, who had seen the utter ruin and chaos that Nemesis would wreak upon the mortal world, petitioned his father to stop Nemesis. Zeus, afraid of earning Nyx's enmity, refused. The god of the sun found himself with no choice. He must stop Nemesis. Only his deeply faithful twin sister, Artemis, remained at his side while the rest of the gods stood by.

Zeus tried his best to persuade his son to abandon the crusade, citing that what happened in the mortal world was of no concern for them, that to defy Nyx was suicide even for an immortal god.

Apollo would not be swayed, and left, turning his back on Olympus just as Nemesis had done, swearing not to return until she was stopped. He tracked the goddess all over the world, his prophecies helping in the quest to stop her. Many times Nemesis tried to drain the good fortune from someone she found herself thwarted. For a while, at least, pride stopped her from appealing to her mother for help. But as time passed, and her irritation with her fellow god grew into deepening hatred, Nemesis decided that she would go to Nyx.

The response was immediate, and harsh. Nyx launched a crusade against Apollo, just as Zeus had warned she would – it was now only a matter of time until she caught up with him.

She did, and there was a battle in the sky above the Earth, of such magnitude and glory that the mortals below could not fail to notice. The god fought bravely, but was viciously wounded. That day, the sun was blotted from the heavens.

Apollo did the natural thing – the only thing he was now capable of. He ran, and hid in a place so crowded with injustice and vengeance that both Nyx and Nemesis would be unable to sense him.

A city on the eastern coast of America.

A city mired in darkness.

A city named Gotham.

---

It was the middle of the day, so Bruce wasn't in costume – not in the Kevlar one anyway – but he was on the rooftop of Wayne Enterprises. On the helipad, to be precise, since he had a flight to Paris to catch, leaving from JFK. It was a gloriously sunny day, and very hot considering it was only early February. It had been niggling at him all day. Mid-August temperatures in winter wasn't right. Though it wasn't beyond the realms of possibility that this was simply a consequence of climate change.

That idea was pushed out of his head when everything went black. It wasn't a gradual shift into darkness, it was an instant change. At his side, he heard Lucius Fox mutter. "What the hell…?"

The pilot of the helicopter cut the engine, and in the silence it seemed to grow even darker. Bruce thought out loud. "An eclipse?"

"It's not like any eclipse I've ever seen, sir," the pilot said. He was ex-Air Force, with twenty years experience in the field. "In fact it's like nothing I've ever seen."

As quickly as it had come, the darkness was over – the sun literally _exploded _back into the sky. It was like a great cosmic firework, golden sparks showering down over Gotham, including on the rooftop. Bruce put a hand out to catch one; it seemed to be exactly that – just a spark, and not even that hot. It faded in his palm quickly.

It was just as sunny as before now, but distinctly cooler, as though the sun had somehow gotten further away. They stood there for a moment, just as all of Gotham was doing, looking into the sky pensively until it became too painful to look at the sun.

Reminding himself that he had a merger to oversee, and there didn't seem to be anything else wrong, Bruce nodded toward his pilot. "You can start the engines back up now."

"Alright, Mr Wayne."

They climbed into the helicopter and set off for Gotham International - only to be informed when they landed that the FAA had grounded all civilian flights across the United States until they could work out what the hell had happened. Bruce wasn't complaining; he knew he stood a better chance of working out what the hell was going on than the FAA or NASA did. Plus he could patrol now, which he was grateful for. It wasn't that he didn't trust Robin and Batgirl to look after the city, but Poison Ivy was out, which made the situation more dangerous than normal.

---

By three am the next morning, Ivy was lying unconscious at his feet, and Bruce was pulling bits of shrivelled plants from his limbs. _So much for me. _

Robin stepped over Ivy's form. "What would you do without me?" he asked with a cheeky grin.

"Don't get cocky," Batman said brusquely. "Let's get her to the police."

He tied her up, then threw the green-skinned woman over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. A few moments later she was safely in custody, and Bruce and Tim were in the Batmobile, headed for home. When they got to the Cave, Tim said goodnight sleepily and went upstairs.

Bruce sat the computer and updated his logs before following his protégé. It was unusual for him to be this tired before four am, but he'd been feeling strangely sluggish all day. Almost...full, like he'd eaten far too much. Which considering he'd not eaten since breakfast seemed odd.

He showered and slipped into bed, asleep before his head hit the pillow.

---

_It's a day like any other – sun in the sky, flowers in the grass, and bad guys on the loose in New York City. Conveniently, they've chosen to set up shop in Central Park. Minimal structural and civilian losses. _

_I'm delivering a final strike to Copperhead, my rigid fingers jabbing into his neck, into his trachea. It'll be enough to knock him out for the next twenty minutes. He drops to the ground with a wheeze. I do a quick recon of the situation. To my left, Hawkgirl is patching up an injured Flash – a cursory glance confirms it is merely a flesh-wound. He'll live to run another day. Up in the sky, Superman is flying steadily toward Star Sapphire, who is trying in a futile manner to drive him back. When he gets to her, she's out with one backhand. I see a flash of reluctance cross his face – Ma Kent's rules about never hitting a lady are hard to overcome, it seems. _

_The ground trembles slightly as Giganta slams into the ground, then shrinks back into a human size. My vision moves to Diana. She floats higher, taking aerial stock of the situation just as I am from the ground. The wind catches her hair, and I wonder if I'm ever going to tell her how magnificent she is. Probably not. _

_Suddenly she seems to sway slightly, and she puts a hand to her head as if dizzy. Seconds later, her voice comes over my com-link. It's weak and unsure. I'm instantly terrified. _

"_Bruce? Bruce, I…I think I'm…going to-"_

_It's already too late – in mid-air, she blacks out. _

_And starts to fall. _

_I yell out to Clark, gesturing wildly. He looks up, and his expression fills with the same panic that I know mine is carrying. He takes off, but she's falling too fast, and he's too far away, even with the speed that he moves. _

_I watch, helpless, as Diana hits the ground. _

---

**A/N: Review please!**


	3. Déjà vu

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed! Enjoy!**

_Cause I don't care for your fairytales, _

_You're so worried about the maiden_

_Though you know she's only waiting on the next best thing. _

_Next best thing. _

Fairytales - Sara Bareilles

**Chapter Two - Déjà Vu**

Batman tossed the folded newspaper onto the conference room table. "It wasn't a solar eclipse."

Superman picked it up – the _Gotham Gazette_, and it was claiming what every other newspaper in the world was – that the sudden lack of a sun in the sky yesterday was an un-forecast solar eclipse. "Then what was it?"

"I don't know," he said starkly. They all paused.

"Am I dreaming...or did the Batman just admit to not knowing everything?" Diana stage-whispered.

Batman sent a glare her way, which she deftly deflected with a smile. He carried on. "Solar eclipses are slow, and the idea of every observatory in the world failing to predict one is ridiculous. This was totally sudden; one minute the sun was there, the next it wasn't. This was something else, some other cosmic phenomenon."

"Caused by an outside force?" Shayera questioned. "Are there any civilisations advanced enough to do that?"

"Not in this galaxy," he replied. "Not to cover the whole planet."

"Maybe it was magical in origin," Diana suggested.

Batman nodded. "I considered that; Zatanna is researching on the mystical Ethernet as we speak." His tone clearly indicated what he thought the chances of her finding anything were. "But I don't think this is the end of it. Whatever it is, I think we should expect more."

"More?" Superman asked. It wasn't for long, but when the sun vanished yesterday it had been like a punch to the gut. "Batman, the _sun _was blotted out – what _more _could there be? It can't get worse, surely."

"Well that's the kiss of death," Wally muttered.

"In the meantime, we need to look at any other cosmic phenomena around the same time. See if there was a pattern," Bruce continued.

At this, almost everyone burst into protests.

"But, Bruce, Lois's second scan is today-"

"No way, Diana and I have a fitting to go to-"

"I have to organise the stag party-"

"It is Xian's birthday-"

"Enough!"

They all fell silent, their expressions ranging from plaintive to glaring at Batman's bark. He took a moment to try (and fail) to stare Diana down before continuing. "Kent, go to the hospital, then get back here right after."

Superman didn't waste time with thanks; he got up and left the conference room as quickly as possible.

"J'onn, go. Your wife's birthday isn't something you should miss."

Besides which, the Martian hadn't been back to China in about a week - not due to choice, but a mission earlier in the week had gone badly; and five members of the League had been seriously injured. Green Arrow was still in a coma in the infirmary, and Dinah hadn't left his side since - nothing that anyone said could move her. In the end J'onn had given her a spare bed in the medical bay. J'onn nodded and got up, moving toward the door.

Batman looked next at Shayera, whose scowl told him exactly what kind of reception he was likely to get if he tried to stop her from attending her fitting - though he wouldn't have expected it from the Thanagarian, since John had proposed six months ago she'd been wedding-wedding-wedding. Diana was maid of honour. The fact that GL was in another galaxy didn't help matters.

"Flash, you're staying," he said emphatically.

Wally slumped. "Aw, man!"

Shayera leapt up with a grin and almost ran toward the door, Diana after her. "Diana, wait."

It wasn't until the Amazon turned to him with a questioning smile that Bruce realised it had been his voice calling her. Or that he'd followed her into the corridor. "Batman?"

Bruce hesitated, but Shayera seemed to get the hint and touched Diana's shoulder. "Ten minutes, transporters."

The princess nodded, and then turned back to Bruce. "Are you...ok, Diana?" he asked. "I mean...are you...feeling well?"

That nightmare had shaken him deeply; worse, almost, than the normal one. It had been so real, like a memory that hadn't happened yet. For a moment he'd thought he really _had _seen her hit the ground. His fingers had then spent the next twenty minutes itching toward his com-link to check she was ok. Only gripping the bed-sheets so hard his knuckles turned white had stopped him.

Her eyebrow cocked up a little, the same time as the corner of her mouth quirked in pleasure, but she nodded. "I'm fine."

"You're sure?" he pressed. "No dizziness, headaches?"

She frowned a little. "No...unless you know something I don't?"

He shook his head emphatically. He couldn't tell her that he'd _dreamt _something was going to happen to her. "No. Just...checking." Yeah, because _that _didn't sound just as lame.

She smiled. "Well I feel as well as I ever have." She leaned in, kissed his jaw. "But it's sweet of you to worry."

"I wasn't-" She'd already gone. "worrying..." he finished lamely.

Bruce sighed. _Great. _

---

"So...?" Shayera asked as soon as they'd been beamed down in New York.

"So what?"

"What did Batman say?" she asked. "He asked you out yet?"

Diana rolled her eyes. "Shayera...we're past that."

"Pfft."

"Really!"

Shayera's expression suddenly melded into one of understanding. "Oh right...I hadn't realised that 'we're past that' had been redefined to mean: 'I still want him just as much as I ever did'."

"Shayera!" Diana resisted the urge to throw her arms in the air. "I don't want Bruce anymore."

"Oh so you're just after a bit of Bat-nookie in the training training room?"

Diana groaned. "I can't convince you, can I?"

"I think you need to convince yourself first, Princess."

"I _am_ convinced!"

Shayera responded with a sly smile and a Shakespeare quote. "Methinks the lady doth protest too much," she sang.

Diana stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. "Shayera, please. Why are you pushing this?" she asked sadly.

That did make the redhead stop. "I guess..." She sighed and pulled Diana into a coffee shop, getting them a couple of lattes. Then she took a deep breath. "Diana...I imagine Earth fairytales are that different from Thanagarian ones."

Diana raised an eyebrow, but didn't pass comment.

"And in those...the traitor gets drawn and quartered."

"Shayera..."

"No, hear me out. I love John, God knows I do, but I think the Fates screwed up." She squeezed Diana's hand. "It's the princess that's supposed to get the happy ending. Not the traitor. And I think that sometimes you've given up on that."

Diana shrugged. "Not...given up, just..."

"What? Put on hold?"

"I guess so."

"For how long, Diana?" her friend asked.

Diana opened her mouth, then shut it and looked away. Shayera, apparently happy that she'd made her point, only picked up her latte and drank deeply. Diana shifted uncomfortably. Alright, so she did care about Bruce, but...as a friend. Right? At least she'd managed to convince herself of that. No, damn it, she had! He was her friend. Clark was her friend, Wally, Shayera, John, J'onn, Zatanna- Bruce was _nothing _more than any of them.

"Are we going to get these dresses or not?" she snapped.

The redhead nodded. "Sure."

"Alright then."

That was when the screaming sirens wailed past.

---

"So...worried about Diana, huh?"

Batman glared up at Flash. "Not especially."

"Oh please, the only guy I've ever seen move that fast is me."

"Have you found anything?" he interjected.

Flash shrugged. "Nothing else. Sun went out at the exact same time everywhere around the world. No idea what caused it, and it came back same time too."

"Nothing else?"

"Hmmm. There _has _been a eight point five per cent increase in thunderstorms in the past twelve months."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Cause?"

"Doesn't seem to be one," Wally said. "All the normal causes have stayed relatively constant. No extra humidity, no more rainfall, just thunder and lightning."

"That's impossible," Bruce stated flatly.

"Take a look yourself," Wally said brightly.

Far too brightly. It was too early in the morning for that kind of cheeriness. Still, Bruce looked. And Flash was right. No rainfall, nothing. Totally against logic. But true. He frowned. This needed further investigation. Flash had done well. Didn't mean he had to let Wally know that though.

He only grunted. "You're not a total loss then."

"Careful, Bats, that was pretty close to a compliment," Wally commented dryly.

Bruce didn't have a chance to reply further than a glare before the alarms went off. Mr Terrific's voice came over their com-links. "Batman, Flash? I've got Wonder Woman and Hawkgirl pinned down and requesting backup. Superman's already on the way-"

"We are too," Flash assured him.

Not ten minutes later, they'd been beamed down to Earth, and were engaged in the fight.

It was a day like any other – sun in the sky, flowers in the grass, and bad guys on the loose in New York City. Conveniently, they'd chosen to set up shop in Central Park. Minimal structural and civilian losses.

Bruce was delivering a final strike to Copperhead, his rigid fingers jabbing into the villains neck, into his trachea. It would be enough to knock him out for the next twenty minutes, and he dropped to the ground with a wheeze. Batman did a quick recon of the situation: to his left, Hawkgirl was patching up an injured Flash – a cursory glance confirmed it was merely a flesh-wound. He'd live to run another day. Up in the sky, Superman was flying steadily toward Star Sapphire, who was trying in a futile manner to drive him back. When he got to her, she was out with one backhand. Bruce saw a flash of reluctance cross Clark's face – Ma Kent's rules about never hitting a lady were hard to overcome, it seemed.

The ground trembled slightly as Giganta slammed into the ground, then shrank back into a human size. Bruce's vision moved to Diana. She floated higher, taking aerial stock of the situation just as he was from the ground. The wind caught her hair, and he wondered if he was ever going to tell her how magnificent she was. Prob-

Bruce blinked. Déjà vu. Really, really strong déjà vu. He'd learned not to ignore those feelings, and acted quickly, not stopping to think about how he knew what would happen next. His eyes stayed on Diana.

Suddenly she seemed to sway slightly, and she put a hand to her head as if dizzy. He didn't wait for her to contact him, and put a hand to his own com-link. "Superman, get to Diana, now!"

Clark, recognising the urgency in Batman's tone, didn't hesitate either. He turned around mid-air and flew toward Diana. Seconds later, her voice came over Bruce's com-link. It was weak and unsure, and the fear for her crystallised into something akin to terror.

"Bruce? Bruce, I…I think I'm…going to-"

It was already too late – in mid-air, she blacked out.

And started to fall.

Superman caught her nine feet off the ground.

---

**A/N: Let me know what you think!**


	4. Not The Only Detective

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Enjoy the next chapter! **

**Chapter Four - Not The Only Detective**

"Is she alright?" Batman demanded after reaching Superman. Though this close, it was clear Diana wasn't. Her face was white as a sheet, her lips tinged with blue.

"She's breathing," Clark assured him. "But it's weak, and her heartbeat is erratic."

"Get her to the Watchtower," Batman ordered. "We'll join you there once the police have them."

Superman nodded, and Bruce put a hand to his com-link since the other man had no hands free. "Batman to Watchtower: initiate emergency transport to med-bay for Superman and Wonder Woman."

His teammates vanished in a burst of white light, and he turned back to where Shayera and Flash were standing guard over the villains. Within two minutes, they were in police custody, and the three remaining Leaguers were beamed back up to the Watchtower. Bruce didn't waste time, heading straight for the infirmary. When the doors hissed open, it was to see a medic setting up an IV for Diana, Superman hovering worriedly over them.

Batman strode over. "Well?" he barked.

The medic looked terrified. "Uh, well, I've taken bloods and set up an IV but it'll take some time for the test results to come in. Her breathing and heart-rate have already picked up, so it looks like she's going to be ok, but there's no way to tell what caused it until the tests are completed."

"Then what are you waiting for?"

The medic nodded and took two steps toward the door, then hesitated and spoke in a tone that was slightly higher than the normal auditory range of humans. "Um...someone should stay with her-"

Superman and Batman spoke at the same time. "I'll stay."

For reasons he couldn't explain, Bruce didn't like that idea. He narrowed his eyes. "Shouldn't you be getting back to Metropolis?"

"Shouldn't _you _be getting back to Gotham?" Clark shot back.

"Why don't you both stay?" the medic suggested on his way out the door.

They both blinked. If anything went wrong in either city, whoever was on monitor duty would pick it up. They both grabbed chairs and dragged them over to Diana bedside, Clark taking one of her hands. They were silent for a few moments before he spoke again.

"I can't remember the last time the three of us spent any time together."

"No," Bruce agreed. His voice went quieter. "We never did get those milkshakes you talked about."

Clark forced a smile. "Just as soon as she's better."

Batman nodded as they lapsed into more silence. Again, Clark filled it. "I'm going to ask Lois to marry me," he announced suddenly.

"Again?" Bruce asked wryly.

Lois's pregnancy, though not unwanted, had been a...surprise. Clark, of course, had done the honourable thing and proposed - and the ever-unpredictable Ms Lane had said no, stating that she knew Clark would never abandon her because of the pregnancy, and he shouldn't feel obligated to marry her just because of that, especially if he wasn't ready. Bruce had never seen his friend look so stunned.

"Again," Superman affirmed.

"When?"

"Don't know yet," he said. "Soon."

"When did you decide to?"

"A couple of days ago. We were having lunch and the waiter overcharged us." His expression took on a dreamy quality. "Lois yelled at him until we got our meals for free."

Bruce, most uncharacteristically, was fighting down the urge to burst out laughing. "I see."

Apparently Clark picked up on the suppressed humour in his voice. "What?"

"Nothing, just...I never thought I'd see the day the Man of Steel was whipped," Bruce smirked.

"I'm not whipped!"

"Uh huh."

The doors opened again, interrupting their argument and revealing the medic. "I have the results back."

Bruce marched over and took the chart from him. "What caused it?"

"Sea snake venom, sir, I-I mean Batman, I-I mean sir-"

Batman ignored his babbling. "Do we have the antidote on board?"

"Yeah, I brought some now-"

Bruce whipped the vial out of his hand and took it over to the IV. He didn't miss the apologetic glance Superman shot to the medic, but didn't care. He was Batman, he was allowed to be rude, and while Diana was just lying there he wasn't in the mood to be polite to anyone. Attaching the vial to a syringe, he slowly pushed the anti-venom into the IV line.

"How long will it be until it takes effect?"

"Uh, about twenty minutes, no more than that." He came further into the room once Batman sat down again, apparently feeling a little braver now that the Kevlar-coated shoulders weren't quite as rigid as they'd been seconds before. "I don't understand though. With Wonder Woman's metabolism the venom alone wouldn't have killed her. It might have taken her a few days to process it, but she'd have recovered. Why would they have poisoned her in the first place?"

"Whoever 'they' is," Superman said. "And the venom might not have killed her..."

"But the fall could have," Bruce finished.

"If you hadn't seen her begin to fall..."

Bruce's frown deepened. Yes, he had _seen _her begin to fall - but he'd seen her in a dream. He'd _seen _the future; far too precisely to be a coincidence. Every detail had been exactly the same. That was why Diana was now lying on the bed instead of on a cold metal table. The difference had been less than ten seconds - but it had been enough.

So what had caused it?

His frown deepened as the silence did until Bruce had almost forgotten Clark was there at all. This was rare now, for a senior League member be injured so badly it required a stay in the infirmary. Though Black Canary and Green Arrow were still in here, attacks had been getting fewer and further between. It had been happening imperceptibly for years...but the number of worldwide threats had decreased until now there was less than half a dozen a year. Attacks like the one today were more frequent, but still not common. In about five years, the League would be obsolete.

The same couldn't be said of Batman and Gotham. Getting better, certainly, but not as quickly as the rest of the world. He was looking forward to the day when his part-time membership could be completely revoked. He doubted Clark and Diana would be as enthusiastic, but Gotham still took priority...and lately he'd been neglecting his city. Tim proved that.

A soft noise from the woman on the bed drew his attention. Now that the antidote was in her system, Diana's breathing had evened out totally now, and she was beginning to stir. She moved her head slightly, a few strands of hair covering her face. Bruce leaned forward and brushed them aside gently, letting his fingers linger slightly on her skin. Then Superman shifted, and he snatched his hand back quickly.

The sudden movement woke Diana, and she opened her eyes sleepily, blinking against the bright light.

"Hey," Superman smiled. "How you feeling?"

She looked over at him, nodding slightly. "Thirsty."

He got up to get her some water, giving Bruce the opportunity to slide his hand behind Diana's neck and help her sit up. It might be for the wrong reasons, but he always found himself savouring moments like this; mainly because he was the only man she'd let help her. Anyone else her pride wouldn't allow it. But it was a fair exchange; amongst the League, Diana was the only one he'd show vulnerability to.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Sea snake venom. You passed out in mid-air."

Clark came back over with the water. "Here."

She took it with a smile and sipped. "So who infected me?"

"We don't know," Batman told her. "But it wouldn't be enough to kill you. I assume they targeted you while you were in the air; that way the fall would finish the job. Superman caught you as you were falling."

"Oh." She turned to Superman with a smile. "Thank you."

He returned the smile, but nodded to Bruce. "Actually if not for Batman then I don't think I would have made it."

She turned to Bruce and squeezed his hand, but didn't say anything. He made sure Superman was looking the other way before he squeezed back.

They stayed with her for another ten minutes or so before Alfred's voice came over Bruce's com-link, reminding him that he was expected to attend the Mayor's Ball that evening and that he only had fifteen minutes to get ready, after which 'fashionably late' simple became 'late'.

"I have to go," he announced, standing up.

Diana and Clark both looked up from their conversation about what baby-names Lois and Clark were clashing over. Diana nodded and smiled. "Alright. Thank you, Bruce."

He nodded, wanting to return her smile, but since Superman was still in the room he didn't, and only left the Infirmary.

The party that night was as dull as he'd thought it would be; he had bimbo of the week on his arm, who apparently didn't understand that just because she had boobs, it didn't mean every man in the room wanted to see them, and drank far more than she could handle. He managed to leave her propped up at the bar at about ten, then unfortunately spent the rest of the night being surrounded by about twenty ageing socialites whose husbands were apparently not quite rich enough.

Seeing the Batsignal go up at eleven, Bruce had never been so relieved in his entire life. He'd deal with whatever it was, then go back to the Cave and start the investigation on what had actually happened to Diana this afternoon.

---

"Well, you'll be happy to know I rearranged the fitting." Shayera didn't bother with a 'how are you feeling, Diana?', and only came into her room mid-flow.

The princess smiled, not least because the Thanagarian had come bearing iced mochas. "I'm glad. When are we going back?"

"Tomorrow, unless you get poisoned again."

Diana grimaced. "No plans to do that." She still had a little lingering pain in her joints, but nothing more than that.

"So you know who did it?"

She shook her head. "No, but Batman said he'd contact me if he came up with anything."

"Pfft. He's not the only detective around here. Come on, let's go find a computer and have a look what we can dig up."

Diana agreed, and the two women left her quarters, taking their chilled coffees with them. "Oh, by the way," Shayera added. "Your friend Queen Audrey called while you were in the med-bay. Apparently there was some kind of problem with the power in Kasnia, but she said she had something important to tell you."

Diana raised an eyebrow. "I guess I'd better call her back."

They located a free computer and Shayera sat down at it while Diana went to the nearest vid-phone, dialling Audrey's number. The young queen picked up after only a few rings. "Diana! Darling, thank Heavens, I was so worried about you!"

Diana cocked an eyebrow. There was surely no way for Audrey to know about the poisoning. "Why?" she asked.

"Vandal Savage has escaped," Audrey growled. "The-" she let out a word in Kasnian that Diana could only assume was very rude, "-managed to get out of my most high-tech dungeon. Now we have no idea where he is."

"When did he escape?" Diana asked, pulling up another window and typing as she spoke to her friend.

"Almost a week ago now," Audrey replied.

Diana's eyes grew wide. "A week? Audrey, why haven't you told me this before?"

"I couldn't!" her friend protested. "When he escaped - I don't know how - he knocked out Kasnia's man power grid! We've been living in the dark ages for the past five days! People have been running riot!"

"Do you need the League's help to keep order?" Diana asked, her tone softening.

Audrey's blonde locks whipped around her head as she shook it. "No, we have it under control now. I just called to warn you since you were the one who helped me to lock him up. And you should warn Batman too." Ever the party girl, a sly grin crept onto her face. "Or _I _could warn him in person if you give me his address."

Diana smirked. "No need. I'll let him know."

"Are you sure he wouldn't want to hear it from a higher-ranking person such as myself?"

"Higher ranking?"

"You're a princess, I'm a queen, darling."

"Audrey."

"Alright, alright. Just be careful. If it was me, I'd be looking for revenge."

Diana nodded slowly. "Yeah. Thanks, Audrey."

"A bien-tot, darling!"

"What was all that about?" Hawkgirl asked once Diana had joined her.

"I think we have our first suspect," Diana told her grimly. "Vandal Savage is out."

---

The sight of an Amazon Princess was not an unwelcome one when Bruce entered the Cave at three forty seven the next morning. She didn't waste time asking how patrol went; he was unharmed so obviously it went well.

"Audrey contacted me," she said. "Vandal Savage escaped."

"When?" he asked.

"Several days ago," she replied. "He also knocked out electricity to the country; Audrey's only just got the situation under control."

He pulled his cowl off and nodded thoughtfully. "So you think that the attack on you today-"

She shrugged. "It's a possibility."

"True, but Savage doesn't seem the type to use poison, or go after revenge. He's immortal; all he'd have to do is wait for his enemies to die."

"Except so am I," she pointed out. "And waiting for time to take its toll is hardly satisfying."

"Again true," he conceded. "So it could have been him. But equally it could have just been some other person or organisation testing out our strengths and weaknesses as a team."

She nodded. "Yes, but who? And for what purpose? The re-offenders we've put away, for life this time, and there have been no indications that there might be an alien attack against Earth." She held up a small metal dart in a clear plastic bag. "I went back to Central Park and managed to find this. I think it's what hit me, it must have fallen out of my skin when I fell."

He took it from her. "Good thinking. I'll start work on it tomorrow."

She stood and nodded. "Alright, I'll head back to the Watchtower and let you get some sleep."

He nodded. "Ok. How are you feeling now?"

"Completely recovered," she smiled. Then she stepped closer. "Thank you, Bruce. You saved my life today." She kissed his cheek, then put a hand to her com-link. "Wonder Woman to Watchtower. One for transport." Giving him one last smile, she was beamed away.

Bruce went to the computer in order to update his logs to include tonight's patrol, then showered and went to bed. He fell asleep hoping that she hadn't thanked Clark the same way.

---

_I'm just leaving the commissary, strong black coffee in my hand and heading toward the monitor duty_ _shift I'm already late for. _

_Suddenly Diana and Superman fly past me, quickly followed by Flash running at top speed. As she passes, Diana spots me and nods, but obviously can't spare another second for greetings. _

_I carry on, making my way to the Monitor Womb. Mr Terrific is already in there, and I expect him to get up and leave as I enter. He doesn't. He only leans forward, his mouth open and his attention fixed on the huge screens in front of him. _

_I look up as well. Wonder Woman and Superman are both in action, evacuating people along with Flash from a nuclear power-plant. I move forward and stop next to Mr Terrific. "What's happening?" _

"_Nuclear plant in the Ukraine. There was a terrorist attack; the plant's about to go into meltdown and the explosion blocked the emergency exit."_

_On-screen, most of the wounded are now loaded onto a truck. "Get it as far away from the plant as possible!" Diana calls. _

_Superman nods, picks up the lorry and flies away from the plant. "I'm making a last check for survivors!" Diana calls to Flash. _

_He isn't listening, instead helping the last of the uninjured employees onto another truck to take them away from the plant. The last one grabs his arm, starts babbling away in Ukrainian, but it's obvious Flash can't understand him. _

_I can. _

"_Oh no."_

_Mr Terrific looks up at me. "What? What is it?" _

_I don't bother explaining, and put a hand to my com-link. "Diana, get out of there! Wonder Woman, come in!" _

"_-er Woman- ving, Batman, go- ead."_

"_Diana, get out! The reactor's about to go into meltdown! It's going to-"_

_There's a blinding flash of light on the screen, and less than a second later, the unmistakable sound of a huge explosion. Coming from the building that Diana has just flown into. _

"_Diana!" _

_---_

**A/N: Review please!**


	5. Real

**A/N: I have a new beta! So a million thanks go to AngelQueen, without whom this chapter wouldn't be possible :) And my thanks to everyone who reviewed.**

**Chapter Five – Real**

It was the shrill ringing of the phone in her room that woke Diana. She didn't wake groggily, but sharply, grabbing the phone. "Yes?"

The voice that came over the receiver was familiar in its pitch, but completely unfamiliar in its tone. "Diana?"

"Bruce? What's wrong?"

"I – Nothing, I –" He cut himself off, and Diana frowned. There must be something wrong - he never called unless there was a point to the conversation, much less in the middle of the night.

"There must be something," she said gently. "Do you need help on a case?"

"No."

The silence stretched on for a few more seconds. "Then... why did you call?"

"I..." For a few seconds, they were on the cusp of having a real discussion. He was about to tell her something real for once. Instead, Batman took over again. "It doesn't matter. Never mind."

"But –" The click of him putting the phone down was all the reply she got.

Diana didn't hesitate. She got out of bed, threw her armour on and ran to the hanger. No way was she letting him get away with it now. He'd called her with real fear in his voice. The journey to Wayne Manor was short, and she landed on the back lawn and then flew to Bruce's bedroom window. It was the only one with a light still on.

She knocked gently on the glass, and then waited, her expression unrepentant. It helped when faced with the apocalypse-level Batglare he bestowed on her once the curtains drew back. He opened the window, but not far enough for her to fly inside. Fine. If that was the way she had to have this discussion then she would.

"What do you want, Diana?"

"What do _I_ want?" she asked. "I want you to tell me the real reason you phoned me in the middle of the night."

"It doesn't matter."

"It mattered enough a few minutes ago," she countered.

"That was then."

"Bruce – Every conversation I have with you, every _real _conversation either goes in circles, or never starts, or contains only half-truths –" She took a deep breath. "You're going to tell me right now why you phoned me."

He was silent for another ten seconds before he gave up on the Batglare. "I had a dream," he said finally.

"What kind of dream?"

"One of your death. It unsettled me, I needed to hear your voice."

She blinked, but nodded. "What was so difficult about that?"

His mouth opened, but finally his shoulders slumped. "Nothing. Now can I go to bed?"

"Yes," she said. "There's no weakness in needing your friends, Bruce."

"There is for me," he replied.

She shook her head. "It's only you who thinks that."

He was silent, and Diana gave up for now, wanting to leave. Just one last thing though. She reached out and touched his hand. "If you need me, I'll be here. Anytime, anywhere, anything," she said, making sure he could not doubt her sincerity. "Goodnight, Bruce."

She barely heard his whispered reply as she flew away. "Goodnight, Princess."

As she flew back up to the Watchtower, she shook her head in exasperation. That man... she'd never met anyone, male or female, who confused and irritated and... _intrigued_ her as much. Her mind touched on the conversation she'd had with Shayera in New York. She'd been so insistent that Shayera was wrong, that she had moved on from the crush she'd had on Batman for a while. Really, it had never developed further than a crush. Right?

There was only one way to tell for sure; she looked down and eyed the coil of her lasso at her hip. If she was lying to herself, then it would bring out the truth, but Diana was certain she wasn't deceiving herself. What would be the point? It couldn't be self-preservation – that would imply that what she felt for Bruce was too strong to be overcome, and she knew that wasn't true. No, she loved him, but as she loved Clark and Wally. The possibility for it to be anything more had faded a long time ago.

Landing in the hanger, she switched off the engines and got out, heading back to bed and pushing the thought of Bruce away. A man that complicated, she could see herself brooding over him for months before she came to any conclusions. It certainly wouldn't help her get to sleep, and no doubt Shayera would be coming to drag to down to Manhattan at first light. Undressing, she switched off the light and crawled into bed.

True to form, it did seem like only ten minutes before Shayera came to wake her. Thankfully she came bearing an iced mocha. "You look tired," she told the princess flatly.

"Oh thanks," Diana said, rolling her eyes.

"Seriously. Did you not sleep well?"

"I slept fine," Diana answered. It wasn't a lie, exactly. The bits she'd actually been asleep she slept well. Telling Shayera that she'd had a late-night visit to Wayne Manor would not be a good idea – she'd never hear the end of it.

"Well hurry up and get dressed. I want my wedding dress."

"You know what it looks like already," the princess pointed out.

"I know, but trying it on is different. It'll feel like I'm really getting married."

Diana raised an eyebrow. "You really _are _getting married, Shay."

It wasn't everyday that Hawkgirl blushed. "I know, but it doesn't quite feel real yet." A grin split her face. "I'm so excited, Diana. I haven't even let John know how excited I am."

Diana giggled. "It's cute."

Shayera's blush suddenly turned into a glower. "Exactly why I haven't told him."

Once Diana was dressed, they teleported down to New York and headed to the dress shop. Both the bride and the bridesmaid's dress were backless. Shayera was fitted first, and within a few moments she came out of the fitting room – looking radiant. When Diana had told Audrey she was maid of honour at Shayera's wedding, her friend had immediately offered the services of her wedding planner.

Diana had looked at her quizzically. "Audrey, you were marrying Vandal Savage."

"Yes, but at such short notice the wedding was fabulous, darling." Her face had turned sly. "With the exception of having a tank thrown through my wall, of course."

Diana had agreed that the little she'd seen of the church, it did look beautiful, and took the number. Shayera had agreed to the wedding planner, and the theme that he'd come up with was gold and silver. Hence Shayera's floor-length dress was a pale gold silk creation, and Diana's a dove-grey satin. The wedding dress itself was beautiful, but on Shayera it looked more than wonderful. She really did look like an angel. Diana felt tears prickle at her eyes.

"Diana? Don't you like it?"

Diana nodded wordlessly, then swallowed hard. "It's beautiful, Shay. You look incredible."

A nervous grin crossed the redhead's face. "Thanks. So you think John will like it?"

The princess nodded. "I don't think he'll be able to say his vows though."

"It's okay; there's enough space under here for my mace if I need to prompt him," Shayera joked. "Now go try yours on." She sat down carefully and took a glass of the complimentary champagne.

Diana obliged, putting the silver dress on. Just as the pale gold went well with Shayera's eyes and hair, the grey satin looked perfect on her. It was sacrilege, but she felt like a goddess wearing it. It was lovely. She pushed back the curtain and faced her friend. "Well?"

Shayera's face lit up. "Brilliant. You look perfect."

"Thank you."

"The colour really brings out your eyes."

"Thank you."

"Batman won't be able to keep his eyes off you."

"Thank – Shayera!" She huffed and turned away from the mirror to glare at the Thanagarian. "How many times? And he won't even be at the wedding anyway." They were both careful to avoid using Bruce's real name, conscious of the presence of the shop assistants. Still, the argument was irrelevant anyway, since Batman wasn't coming to the wedding. He was, as he'd said before, not a people person, and a wedding was about as social as occasions came. So no Bruce.

Shayera got up and walked over to Diana so that she could whisper. "You could always drop by the manor just beforehand," she said.

"But I'm not going to because it doesn't matter," she said firmly. "Now are we done? I'm meeting Superman for coffee in an hour, and you wanted to get lunch right?"

"Yup." The distraction did what it was supposed to do, and Shayera turned to the shop assistant. "Thank you, they're both fine. We'll be here the day before the wedding to pick them up."

She smiled. "Alright then, Miss Hol."

"Come on, Di, let's go."

---

Okay, so far so good. He'd managed to get through the entire day without calling Diana every fifteen minutes. The incident from very early this morning helped with that – it had been bad enough trying to explain why he needed to see her without raising her suspicions even more. Nevertheless, something wasn't right – something inside him (he refused to call it a voice) just kept whispering that unless he stopped it, something terrible was going to happen to Diana. It was why he'd coordinated all the satellites Wayne Enterprises owned to move to a geostationary orbit above any nuclear power plants in the Ukraine, just to make sure.

"I know you usually try not to look like you're listening, Mr Wayne, but I think you've cracked it."

Bruce looked up at Lucius Fox. "I wasn't," he said honestly. "Quick run-down?"

"Nothing for you to be concerned about. You just made fifty million dollars. You going to tell me what's wrong?"

"Lot on my mind. League." He stood, shook hands with Fox. "Thanks, Lucius."

He was glad he'd decided to drive into the city today rather than have Alfred chauffeur him – he really needed to think, and driving at reckless speeds always helped in that department. Even if it was in a Maserati rather than the Batmobile.

When he got home, however, he was no closer to calming himself down. Telling himself he was being ridiculous, he went down to the Cave and changed into the Batsuit, checking the satellite images of the Ukraine. Nothing out of the ordinary there. He then hacked into the CPU's of each one to monitor the reactor-core temperatures.

Only one stood out: the power plant of Novomyrhorod. The reactor-core temperature was still well within safe limits, but it was rising nevertheless. He aligned the nearest satellite overhead, impatience building as he waited for it to move. The Earth rotated at ridiculous speeds, how could it take so fu–

When the image came up, his jaw dropped. It was the same power plant in his... dream. That meant that that reactor was going to go into meltdown today. A beep from the other screen caught his attention. The reactor-core temperature rose again. A few more degrees and it would reach the danger zone.

Still, it wasn't that simple - there had been another, more minor explosion beforehand; that was what triggered the meltdown. Or was at least why no one had picked up the signs. That was it; decision made.

He put a hand to his communicator. "Batman to Watchtower."

Mr Terrific's voice greeted him. "Watchtower here."

"Transport me up."

It wasn't until he got beamed up in a flash of white light that he realised how utterly ridiculous the urgency that filled him was. There was nothing wrong with the power plant now, and what was he going to say? That something _would_? The Founders would listen, but then that would lead to Diana in the Ukraine, and the whole point of this was that that had to be avoided at all costs.

"Batman?"

Bruce blinked at Mr Terrific's voice. "What?" he snapped.

The man didn't blink. "You seem... preoccupied."

"I'm fine," he said brusquely, leaving the room. He couldn't just sit on his ass and wait for the power plant to explode – people would be injured or killed that way, and he refused to allow that to happen. He strode back to the transporter room. "Mr Terrific."

"Yes?"

"Where are Superman and Diana? And Flash," he added.

The other man paused for a moment as he located them. "All are in the commissary." He didn't ask why.

Bruce nodded his thanks and walked out again, heading for the commissary. When he got there, he made straight for where Clark and Diana were sitting. He passed Flash on the way. "Flash, we're going to the Ukraine."

"What, but I just got –"

"Now!"

He moved to Clark and Diana's table, giving them the same message. Both had the same expression Wally had. "Bruce –"

"Now, Clark!"

They'd all learned to listen to that tone. They all got up, following him to the hanger and into the nearest Javelin. Bruce fired up the engines and took the jet out into space. They were breaking through the atmosphere before anyone asked the question.

Not surprisingly, it was Diana. "Uh, Bruce?"

Silence.

"...why are we going to the Ukraine?"

He was saved from having to answer by Mr Terrific's voice coming over the intercom. "Batman! Can you get to the Ukraine? Reports of an explosion at a nuclear plant in-"

"Novomyrhorod, we're en route," he finished.

There was another silence in the cockpit. This time, no one enquired as to how Batman knew where they were going. He took advantage of the silence. "When we get there, you follow my orders. Flash, Superman, you come into the building with me, search for survivors. Diana, go to the nearby villages, organise some transport to get the wounded away. Then go to the nearest large town; find the hospital and tell them to expect many wounded. Under no account is anyone to go into the plant after the last truck has departed, is that understood?"

They all nodded mutely.

"Good."

Landing didn't take long, and they all set about their appointed tasks without complaint. They pulled sixty-three employees out of the wreckage, but only half of Bruce's attention was fixed on that. He really hoped Diana did as ordered. If she didn't, he'd kill her before the explosion could.

By the time Flash had loaded the last people onto the truck, Diana was back from the hospital. "They're briefed," she told him, casting another look at the plant. "Are we sure there are no more wounded?"

Flash spoke, and Bruce wanted to strangle him. "Can't be a hundred percent," he admitted. "Maybe–"

"We don't have time," Bruce interrupted harshly. "The reactor's about to go into meltdown."

That was a lie – it wasn't, since he'd managed to prevent that, but he couldn't be sure that there wasn't going to be another kind of explosion. Either way, no way in hell was he letting Diana in there.

Diana bit her bottom lip. "We have to be sure though," she argued. "If there's even a chance–"

Just before Superman lifted the truck away, the last of the technicians grabbed Flash's sleeve, babbling something desperately. Flash shook his head, not understanding. Batman translated. "He says the explosion was a terrorist attack. A bomb planted by the entrance." A pause while he listened to more. "Just before he arrived, one of the security guards said he'd found another suspicious looking package in the employee lounge."

Diana turned to the plant. "Then we have to go back in! If there are more survivors they're now in grave danger."

She lifted from the ground.

Bruce's reflexes did not let him down, and he managed to grab Diana's ankle. With her strength she barely noticed his weight, but looked down at him with wide eyes. "Batman, what in Tartarus are you doing?" she demanded.

"Diana, land!"

"What? I can't –"

"Diana, if you trust me, then land!"

She hesitated, and they got another fifty feet closer to the plant, but she did as he said. "I don't under –"

She cut off as Bruce threw himself on top of her. The explosion did the rest of the explaining. Once rubble finished raining down around them, he rolled off the princess, getting up and offering a hand to her.

Wide-eyed and silent, Diana took it and let him pull her to her feet. Clark's voice went off in his ear. "Batman! Are you and Diana alright?"

"We're both fine," he assured his friend. "On the way back now."

"Bruce..." Diana began, "how...?"

_Shit. _She'd have to ask the one question he was trying to avoi-

---

_The tentacle wraps around me squeezes a little harder, forcing what little air there is left out of my lungs. Thankfully, there's an exploding batarang already in my hand. I throw it at the base of the tentacle; it beeps, and then explodes. With a ragged groan of pain, the thing lets go of me, and I drop the fifteen feet or so to the ground. _

_I don't give it the opportunity to grab me again, and head for its only obvious vulnerable spot: its huge flat eyes. Giant squids. I've seen at least half a dozen of these things attack Gotham's docks, and I still can't believe it. Damn Aquaman. If he'd just told the League there was a problem all of this could have been avoided. _

_Another exploding batarang in the eye and a mace-blow to the head later, the last of them is dead. _

_Shayera swoops down out of the sky. "Is it dead?" she asks. _

"_Think so." _

_She nods. "Thought the sucker couldn't be killed for a second back there." _

_There's no time to recognise the fact that she's made an unintentional joke – we might be okay, but Metropolis certainly is not, and I'm willing to bet New York and Miami are no better off. _

"_Superman and Diana?" _

"_Still in the Atlantic for the first; second is in Atlantis itself." She pauses, and I can see from the set of her mouth I'm not going to like what she has to say. But Shayera is not one to beat about the bush. "Aquaman got hurt," she says grimly. "Diana went to retrieve him... and then went to fight the Kraken." _

_That even gives me pause. I will her to tell me I'm wrong with my next word. "Alone?" _

"_Alone," Shayera answers grimly. _

_I swear. Loudly. And repeatedly. What is she thinking? If the king of the seas can't –_

_The Batwing isn't far away, and I run to it, praying to God, Diana's gods and every other deity I can think of that I'll get there in time. Even as the jet speeds toward Atlantis, I recognise how foolish my need to get there is. The fucking _Kraken_. What can I hope to do? _

_Halfway there, I feel J'onn's voice touch my mind. Dread grasps my spine with its cold fingers. _Batman, I am unable to sense –

_I cut him off. _She's alive, J'onn. I'm heading to Atlantis now. _I keep repeating that. She's alive. She has to be. _

_There is a definite pause from the other end. Finally J'onn comes back. _Aquaman wants you to meet him in Bad Wolf Bay, Norway.

I'll be there.

_Of course, when I get there, I don't actually need to land to see what Aquaman wants to show me. The carcass of the Kraken is huge, taking up the entire mile-long beach by itself, glistening wetly in the early morning sunlight. _

_I land the plane on a rocky outcrop, and run to where the Atlantean king is lying, still wounded, on a litter. "The princess killed it," he tells me without preamble. _

_My mouth goes dry. "Where is she?" _

_Silently, he gestures to his queen, standing beside him. Mera sends me a look of extreme pity, and my heart stops. With gloves that are trembling only slightly, I take from her Diana's tiara. The only piece of my princess that left the oceans' depths. _

_It's several seconds before I look up at the king and queen of Atlantis. "She's not dead," I say flatly, before turning and stalking back the way I came. _

_It's three days before Metropolis and other coastal cities around the world are safe – though the death of the Kraken seems to have taken some of the sea-monsters' viciousness away. Three days of no sleep, no food, and no Diana. The night we finally do return to our homes, I can't sleep. J'onn still can't find her. Doctor Fate and Zatanna are searching magically, Aquaman is scouring the seas. This is his fault. If she- Then it is his fault. Nothing can change that - but as yet we've not found her. Not a trace. _

_Lack of sleep and being out of my mind with worry makes me go outside, to stand at the edge of the sea and almost scream at it._

_Almost scream. _

_Because there, lying at the foot of the cliff-face, is a figure. At first she looks like a mermaid, the waves washing gently over her, tranquil for the first time in weeks. It isn't until my sprinting feet have taken me to within five metres of her that I realise… _

_She's not moving. She doesn't even look like she's breathing. _

_When I kneel by her side, it's obvious. The bloating has already begun. She's got seaweed in her hair and mouth. Her lips and eyelids are blue. I don't care how cold or wet she is; I gather her body into my arms and whisper her name brokenly until it's the only sound in the world; the waves and the wind chanting it with me. _

_That's all she is now - a ghost on the wind. _

_---_

He groaned in pain. "Not again..."

A gentle hand descended on his shoulder. "Bruce?"

His head snapped up so fast his neck hurt. She just stood there, grave and expectant – _solid. _"Are you alright?"

He could have melted in relief at her voice. Her clear, steady, _living _voice. He overcame the urge to kiss her out of pure joy at her existence, but couldn't stop himself from gripping her upper arms to make sure she was real. "Diana?"

Her blue eyes were wide and alarmed. "What is it?"

---

**A/N: Review please!**


	6. She Is Different

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews! And thank you to AQ. Everyone give her a round of applause! *claps* Here's the next chappy!**

**Chapter Six - She Is Different**

"Migraine," he said automatically, then wondered why he had. If anyone was going to accept that he was having – possibly magical – visions, then it would be Diana.

From the look in her eyes, she wasn't buying it. "A migraine. Are you sure? You look... shaken."

"I'm sure, Princess. Let's get out of here."

Her hand on his shoulder stopped him. "Wait a second, Bruce, you didn't answer my question. How did you know to stop me?"

Behind his lenses, he closed his eyes and cursed silently. "It was logical," was all he said. He continued somewhat harshly, hoping to avoid further discussion, "Flash said there was a bomb, we had no idea when it might go off, and there was every chance you might get caught in the explosion. Unless you'd rather I hadn't saved your life?"

"Well no, it's just –"

"Then let's go," he ordered, marching away and trying hard not to feel guilty about the fact that he probably had just hurt her feelings. A few seconds later, she flew past him. Apparently he had.

_Damn it._

When he got back to the Javelin, she waited until he had a foot on the ramp before she fired up the engines and took off. Yep. He'd pissed her off, but it couldn't be helped. He now had a oceanic revolt to prevent, and Diana's life once more needed saving. His mind quickly fell into planning. Coastal cities needed warning: Gotham, Metropolis, New York, Miami and others – if, that was, they couldn't stop it before it happened. First stop was Atlantis. Aquaman was fiercely protective of his kingdom, and unless they had a good reason for being there, his pride would stop him from admitting he needed help. So Bruce needed a reason to be there, aside from: _I had a vision. _

If worse came to worst, then he'd go, and if Aquaman refused their help, then Bruce would make sure they dealt with the problem anyway; there was no way in hell he was just going to walk away to spare the man's dignity, not if Diana's life was at stake.

When they got back to the Watchtower, he left the shuttle without a word and went to the nearest computer, accessing the Watchtower's log of all mayday calls picked up in the last six months. Most mayday calls – if they required Justice League assistance – were broadcast on a slightly different wavelength in order to ensure the League didn't waste time responding to every distress signal.

Behind him, the doors to the small room hissed open, and Superman stepped through. Batman snarled mentally at him to piss off, or at least not to ask stupid questions. No such luck.

Clark stood next to him for a moment, apparently waiting for him to speak. When the silence stretched on, he finally asked the question. "What's going on, Bruce?"

"Busy."

"Doing what? Looking at mayday statistics? What does that have to do with anything?"

As he spoke, Bruce was already narrowing the list down to shipwrecks, then displaying the last six months' worth. They were going up slowly, and in the last month or so, there'd been more disappearances of sailors and ships than there had been in the previous five months. Double the amount of distress calls had been sent out as well, most of them in the Atlantic, which would tally with his vision of cities on the East Coast under attack. "There's a problem in the ocean," he told Clark. "We need to go to Atlantis."

"Atlantis? Why?"

"Because shipwrecks have been increasing exponentially –"

Clark was peering at the statistics too. "I'll admit they've gone up, but I hardly think 'exponential' is the right word." He looked down at his friend. "Don't you think you're being a bit... paranoid? Generally you leave this kind of thing to the Question."

"It's not paranoia," Bruce snapped. "Something is _wrong_, Clark. If we don't do something now, then –" He cut himself off, but the damage was done; Clark was looking at him curiously.

"Then what?"

"Then it could get really bad, really fast. Trust me."

"Well you know I do, but –"

"But nothing, Clark. We're going to Atlantis. Aquaman's lost control, and it's going to spiral."

"Okay, stop."

Bruce didn't stop. He had no choice when Clark put himself in front of the door. "Move," he growled.

"No, not until you explain what is going on with _you_," Clark said stubbornly. "_How _do you know what's going to happen all of a sudden? This isn't your usual intuition, Bruce. Knowing when someone's behind you is one thing, but this is... almost precognition."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I don't think I am."

"Well _I _do. This is something that needs to be handled now, Kent. So if you're finished coming up with bullshit conspiracy theories, we need to find GL and J'onn, then go to Atlantis." Bruce then pushed past him and hoped Clark wouldn't follow. Again, no such luck.

"Why do we need GL and J'onn?"

Bruce didn't answer. _Because I think we're going to have a Kraken on our hands. _Revealing details like that to Clark would raise too many questions. Unfortunately, he'd forgotten that while Superman may have the temperament of a Boy Scout, he had the intelligence of the award-winning reporter that Clark Kent was. "Okay, if you're not going to give me the truth, then I decide who we take. If you're taking me, GL and J'onn, then you're talking about the Founders with super-strength. In which case we're taking Diana."

Bruce skidded to a stop. "No!"

"No?" the Kryptonian repeated, surprised. "She's the strongest female member of the League –"

"She's not going."

"Don't you think that's her decision?"

"No," he said flatly.

"Too bad. I'm going to tell her, then _Diana _can decide."

"You _dare _tell her _anything_ –"

"Why the hell are you so set against Diana coming with us?" Clark demanded. He eyed him warily. "Have you two had a fight?"

"No," he gritted out.

"Then _what_? Did you pull a Bruce Wayne on her?"

"Damn it, Clark, I am trying to keep her alive!" he finally barked.

"Trying to keep who alive?"

They both turned, Clark suddenly pale and Bruce red with anger, to see Diana standing behind them, looking curiously at them both. All Bruce could focus on, though, was the fact that her hair was wet, water droplets clinging to her shoulders and neck.

_No. No no no no no. _He felt the blood drain from his face, forced himself to focus on the colour in her cheeks and on her lips, both vivid and strong. The only blue about her were her eyes – which were currently looking at him in concern.

"Bruce? Are you alright?"

"W-Why are you wet?" he choked out.

"Hmm? Oh, I just got out of the shower," she answered. "Now who are you trying to keep alive?"

"It doesn't matter," he replied. "Have you seen J'onn around?

"He told me he was on his way," she said. "We're going to Atlantis aren't we?"

His gaze sharpened. "How do you know that?"

"Well Clark contacted J'onn telepathically, and then J'onn told me, so... here I am."

Bruce turned to deliver the fiercest Batglare he could muster to Superman, who visibly cringed. Diana looked even more curious. "In that case, he made a _mistake,_"Bruce emphasised. "We won't need you on this one, Princess. I'm sure you're tired."

Wrong thing to say. Diana drew herself up and put one hand on her hip. "I am no more tired than you or Superman! Besides, if you need Leaguers with super-strength then you can't afford to leave me behind!"

Furious that it was the second time he'd had that logic delivered to him, and that it was even harder to disregard coming from Diana, he shouted, "Fine!"

Leaving his friends standing staring after him, Batman stalked away toward the landing bay. Brilliant. Not only did Clark now know there was something wrong, Diana was coming too. To the Atlantic Ocean, in which she stood every chance of being _drowned_ or –

Stopping just inside the landing bay, Bruce stopped and forced himself to calm down. What the hell was happening to him? It wasn't just the clairvoyance, it was his reaction to it. When he and John had gone to the future, and he'd seen Diana disappear – he'd thought he knew panic then. But _this _was cloying, choking him like smoke with every vision. He hated feeling this way. It was bad enough seeing his parents' murder in his nightmares, but this was somehow _worse_. In dreams, he felt that same deep grief and dread because he knew exactly what was coming, knew he wouldn't be able to stop it, knew that he'd lose them all over again…

But that was the thing. He _knew _what was going to happen.

He had no idea what was going to happen with Diana. With each vision, he was forced to watch her die in another horrible way, different from the last time. There were far too many ways she could die, he was beginning to learn. He'd gotten so used to the idea of Diana being invincible, immortal and unyielding. He hated seeing her fragile, and in death she was the most fragile thing he'd ever seen. It scared the _hell_ out of him, to be honest.

He took a deep breath. No. She wasn't going to die. She was going to live. He had seen the future – however ridiculous admitting that made him feel – and forewarned was forearmed.

The doors opened again, and J'onn came in, thankfully without the others for the time being. He stopped and looked at Bruce. "Are you alright, my friend?"

Okay, if he was broadcasting his turmoil to _J'onn_, then he definitely needed to calm down. He was _Batman_. He didn't let anyone know what he was thinking, even a telepath. "I'm fine," he said shortly. "Ready to go?"

J'onn nodded and passed no further comment before Batman boarded the Javelin. A few moments later, GL, Diana and Superman boarded in silence. Bruce just hoped Clark hadn't been stupid enough to tell her what he'd said. Bruce took off, heading for Atlantis.

As they were diving under the waves of the Atlantic, John spoke up. "So why we going to Atlantis?"

"Shipwreck numbers have been increasing rapidly over the last few weeks," Batman said succinctly. "I believe Aquaman may be losing control of the seas; specifically deep-sea creatures. If that happens the implications for coastal cities all around the Atlantic would be catastrophic."

John nodded. "Makes sense."

Bruce felt a rush of gratitude toward the former Marine. Having one of his teammates accept his logic without question would make it a lot easier to convince the other three, especially once he'd been proven right. A few moments later, they came to the city of Atlantis, encapsulated in its huge bubble.

Just after that, an angry voice sounded from the communications array. "Unidentified craft! You are in violation of the borders of the sovereign city of Atlantis. You will retreat immediately, or be destroyed!"

Bruce knew there was no way the Atlanteans didn't recognise the Javelin; it was simple sabre-rattling on their part. Superman leaned forward. "This is the Justice League, do not fire. Repeat: this is the Justice League. We need to speak with your king as a matter of urgency."

There was a silence for a few seconds, then: "Javelin Nine, you will not deviate from your present course. Landing pod five will be cleared for your use."

"Affirmative."

They landed, and we met by a heavily armed squad of Atlantean soldiers, all tapping their various weapons menacingly. Batman didn't bat an eyelid. He had the two most dangerous weapons in the world flanking him; Wonder Woman on his left, Superman on his right.

"Take us to the king," he ordered. "Now."

They glared – he glared right back. They were the ones who moved.

Soon after that, they were shown into Arthur's throne room. He did not look happy to see them. "What is this matter of urgency," he demanded, "and how does it affect Atlantis?"

"You're losing control of the deeps," Batman stated flatly.

There were gasps of outrage from all the Atlanteans in the room. Except from their king, Bruce noted. He only looked dismayed. As if his darkest secret was being revealed by someone who had no right to know it. Unexpectedly, Bruce felt smug, then frowned. The situation had the potential to kill hundreds of thousands – possibly millions – of people, and he was _smug_? Again, the disorientation struck. Whatever was happening to him... he was changing, and he didn't like it.

Aquaman stood abruptly, and beckoned imperiously. "Come with me. I would deal with your impudence myself."

As soon as he and the Leaguers were out of sight of the various courtiers and sequestered in a small library, the king of Atlantis dropped the show. He did not drop his anger, though. "How dare you come here and accuse me, in my own throne room, of losing control over my kingdom –"

"Cut the crap," Bruce interrupted. "You're losing control; you need help, and we're here."

"How do you know all this?" Arthur demanded.

"Does it matter?"

Diana stepped forward. "If something is wrong, Aquaman," she said gently but firmly, "then you need to tell us what's happening."

There was a moment of hesitation, then the king's shoulders slumped slightly and he spoke. "The Kraken has awoken."

"The _Kraken_?" Diana asked, her eyes widening substantially. "Even my people have legends of that, but I assumed they were merely myth."

"The Kraken is far from mere myth," Arthur said heavily. "I wish it were." He sat down and explained. "No one knows how it was created, or when; just that the Kraken has existed for as long as the ocean. It is a demon of the ancient world – and has dominion over the deep. Dominion that supersedes my own."

"You said it had 'awakened'," Superman said. "What does that mean?"

"Eons ago, my ancestors performed an ancient rite that would imprison the Kraken for five thousand years. Time enough, they hoped, to find a way to kill it permanently."

"And it hasn't been."

"No."

"We can kill it."

All eyes in the room turned to look at Bruce, his teammates staring at him in shock. "_What_?" Clark spluttered. "Batman, you- _you're _advocating we _kill _something?"

Bruce found it slightly odd too, but for some reason wasn't worried about it. "It's not a sentient being," he pointed out. "It's an animal, correct?"

Arthur nodded. "It hates irrationally, with no thought. It is a rabid beast, nothing more."

"Then no logic can convince it otherwise, and obviously imprisonment has no effect," Batman continued. "So killing it is the only other option."

"If you are to attempt this," the king said, "then you will need to be at full strength. I suggest you rest here for the night, and we go after the Kraken in the morning. I know where it dwells – it will not be hard to find."

"Alright," Superman nodded. "We'll rest first."

The king nodded. He moved over to the door and called for a servant. "Arina!"

A woman came in and bowed. "My king?"

"Escort the Justice League to the guest quarters," he said. "Make sure they are comfortable."

She bowed again. "Yes, sire." She turned to the Leaguers. "This way please," she said politely.

They followed her through the palace until they came to the guest wing of the palace. She stopped at the entrance to a corridor. "Here are your rooms. Food will be brought to you shortly."

She bowed again and glided away. Diana pushed open the nearest door and found quarters as luxurious as those she'd grown up with on Themyscira. She smiled and said goodnight to the men; whatever she'd said to Bruce earlier, she really could do with the rest.

They all went into their own rooms, but Bruce knew he wasn't going to be resting. It wasn't the mile of water above him that bothered him; it was the mile of water above _Diana_ that mattered. Knowing it was a last-ditch effort that wouldn't work, he left his room, and knocked softly on Diana's door.

"Who is it?"

"It's me."

"Come in," she said, sounding surprised.

He pushed the door open, and she smiled at him. "Nervous?"

He narrowed his eyes to let her know he wasn't in the mood for teasing. Her smile faded. "Bruce? What's wrong?"

"I want to ask you... don't come tomorrow."

She frowned. "Am I in some way less capable than you, or Clark?"

"No."

"Then why are you so insistent I take no part in this battle?"

"Honestly?"

"I'd like to think at this point we can be honest with each other, Bruce," she said, sounding exasperated.

"Alright," he conceded. "I..." For a moment he really was on the verge of telling her, but still couldn't convince himself to go through with it. "… have a bad feeling."

She blinked. "You have a bad feeling?"

"Yes."

She frowned, but said nothing for a moment. Finally she spoke, stepping closer. "It... isn't like you to be so... vague."

_I know. Believe me, I know. _"Still," he said. "There is it."

She sighed, then shook her head. "I'm sorry, Bruce, but my instincts are telling me I'll be needed in this battle."

Well, he couldn't argue with that. He knew it was Diana who killed the Kraken in his vision, regardless of the fact that she would die in the attempt. "Damn it, Diana..."

"What?" she asked. "Bruce, no matter how bad this feeling of yours might be, there is nothing to suggest that I am in anymore danger now than I have been before."

Again, something he couldn't argue with. "Then... you have to put up with me worrying about you," he finally said with a small smirk.

She tilted her head slightly. "You worry about me?"

"Not frequently, but... sometimes. It's not your ability, Diana, it's..." Realising he was heading inadvertently into dangerous territory, he stopped.

Too late. She was already far too close, and if the set of her mouth was any indication, she knew exactly how that sentence was going to end, and she was happy about it. "It's concern for my safety," she murmured.

"...yes."

"Because you like having me around."

"Diana."

"It's a simple question, Bruce."

"It wasn't a question."

"Then I'm making it one," she said simply. "Do you like having me in your life?"

The standard answer came out. "You're a good friend, Diana, of course –"

"That's avoiding the question," she pointed out. Her eyes flicked to his mouth.

"Why ask a question you already know the answer to?"

"Because I think I'll like the answer," she whispered. She leaned in, her eyes drifted shut. She was going to kiss him – and he wasn't going to stop her. He felt her breath on his mouth, then –

There was knock on the door. Swearing viciously in Themysciran – some curses he recognised, some he didn't – Diana stepped back from him. "Come in!" she snapped.

Another servant came in, carrying a tray of food. "Dinner, my lady," he said.

She waved the man over to a low table, and Bruce was reminded she was a princess. It was easy to forget sometimes. When the Atlantean man bowed and left again, Diana sat down at the table. Bruce moved toward the door, but was stopped by her asking, "Will you stay?"

He turned, and she gestured at the food. "There's far too much food here for me alone."

"I'm not hungry."

He distinctly heard her sigh disappointedly, and couldn't stop himself from turning at the door. "Sleep well, Princess."

---

"Why does he have to do that?" Diana muttered after the door had shut behind him.

She looked down at her meal, no longer hungry. He'd been acting oddly for the past few days; becoming increasingly imperious and even more short-tempered than normal. It hadn't escaped her attention that he'd not answered her question in the Ukraine; she still was none the wiser about how he'd known she was in danger, and even now, he seemed so sure that peril was just around the corner.

Dichotomous at best to most others, Diana hated it when he did it to her. When they were alone, or with the Founders, he was relaxed sometimes, _constant_. Then he'd do something like almost kiss her, and then leave, and suddenly there were back at square one. She sighed, and leaving dinner, decided to go to bed.

She slept well, despite knowing that Bruce probably hadn't, not if he was really that worried. However, much as she hated to admit it, she was tired, and grateful that the bed was comfortable.

The next morning, however, she woke full of nerves. The myth of the Kraken had built up over thousands of years, moving from something ancient and terrifying to now myth – but if anyone could claim to know that myths were not all they seemed, it was her. Technically _she _was a myth, and her gods more so.

Speaking of the gods... Getting out of bed, she moved to the window. Normally she kept strictly to the goddesses, but to be this far into Poseidon's domain and ignore the god of the seas would only be to incite his wrath. Plus, if Bruce was right, and they were in danger, then they would need all the protection they could get.

She couldn't know that at this moment in time, all the gods of Olympus had more pressing matters to attend to than seeking retribution against every mortal who insulted them.

So the princess dropped to her knees and touched her head to the cool marble floor. It smelt faintly of salt. "Mighty Poseidon," she murmured. "I humbly beg of you to extend your protection to us today. Please understand that though I respect your creation, the Kraken must be stopped, or many innocent people will die. I implore you to watch over my friends, and help us ensure victory today."

Bowing again, she moved on to Athena. "Honoured Athena, I ask you to bless me with your protection, with your wisdom today, as you have always. And as always, I thank you for the gifts you have bestowed on me."

The most important two done (for today), Diana prayed to the rest of her patron goddesses; the normal ones of thanks and praise. When she came to Aphrodite, she found herself pouring her heart out to the goddess of love, speaking out loud the fears and hopes she hadn't let herself consciously acknowledge in months. Ever since she had decided to move on, she had stopped speaking to Lady Aphrodite of Bruce. It would seem obvious, however, that moving on was not working. So she was back to pleading for help. That done, she stood up and wiped a stay tear from her cheek.

Leaving her room, she saw the others all coming out of their rooms too. A servant came to lead them to the Javelin, and where the king was waiting. He had some rather lovely weapons next to him. Their style wasn't as elegant as the designs of Themyscira, to her mind, but they still looked satisfyingly sharp. Aquaman noticed her gaze, and hefted one, throwing it to her. She caught it with one hand, ran her fingers along the edge gently. Oh yes, this would do nicely.

She looked up to see Arthur offer the next one to Superman, who shook his head. "Don't think I'll need it."

She nodded. While she and the others kept the Kraken busy, it would make the most sense for Clark to use his laser vision on the beast.

Batman, too, declined the offer of a weapon, indicating his belt. "I've got my toys."

The corner of Diana's mouth curled upward. They boarded the Javelin and set off. It did not take long to get to the lair of the Kraken – as Arthur told them, everyone knew were it dwelled, but no one was brave or foolish enough to approach it.

About half a mile away, Arthur told them to stop. "Here is close enough. Any further and your craft will most likely be ripped apart."

J'onn, Diana, Clark and Bruce all took oxygen masks from the compartment in the Javelin, while John simply used his ring to create a bubble around his body. They then opened the airlock and set off into the Atlantic Ocean.

Arthur had warned them that the Kraken knew they would be coming, and ten minutes later, Diana couldn't argue with that, since she was currently being ripped apart from two tentacles. At least, that was what it was _trying _to do, but with one hand and both her legs trapped, she was still able to wield her Atlantean battle-axe to great effect. With a groan and a cloud of blue-green blood, the tentacle around her arm was gone. The one around her legs was trickier, but there was suddenly a sharp-edged batarang wedged into its flesh. A few seconds later, there was more blood in the water.

She looked, but Bruce wasn't looking at her. He was gesturing furiously toward Clark. "Superman!" he yelled.

In fairness, it wasn't as though Clark didn't have things to do; the Kraken seemed to have singled him out as the biggest threat, and his laser vision was working overtime. Finally, he resulted to brute force to break out of the knot of tentacles he was trapped in. "Aim for the eyes!" Aquaman shouted.

While Superman took aim, the rest of them tried to keep the Kraken from stopping him. J'onn had morphed into a Kraken-like creature of his own, complete with tentacles to wrap around the originals. The ones he missed, John's ring, Arthur's hook and Diana's axe were sweeping through quite cleanly.

Bruce was doing the same thing, only not so cleanly; the exploding batarangs were simply stripping large chunks of flesh from the Kraken. Diana couldn't claim to have noticed when Clark managed to do it; the neural system of the Kraken did not seem be based on the central nervous system as theirs were. It took a good five minutes, even after Superman had lobotomised it, for all the tentacles to stop moving.

Once it had, and the adrenalin of battle had worn off, she felt weariness seep into her bones. "There isn't another of one those things down here is there?" John asked.

Arthur shook his head. "No."

"What should we do with its body?" J'onn asked.

"Leave it. It will provide nourishment for thousands of creatures on the ocean floor."

They nodded, and headed back to the Javelin. Aquaman didn't join them. "I will journey back to Atlantis; thank you for your assistance."

"But you're telling us to get out," Diana assumed, not really surprised. The king of Atlantis was as territorial of his city as Bruce was of Gotham.

He nodded, then turned and began swimming back in the direction of Atlantis. "Come on, guys," Clark said, "let's get out of here."

Grateful that she was not piloting, Diana put her head back in the seat, and closed her eyes. Sleep slipped over her in small waves. _Wake up, Princess..._

When she next opened her eyes, it was to find they'd landed in the hanger bay, and the engines were off. Her cheek tingled slightly, as though she'd just been touched – but there was no sight of Bruce. _He must have already left_, she thought, trying not to feel disappointed.

---

He had left the Watchtower quickly, heading down to the Cave and sitting in front of the computer. He slid the cowl off and then sighed.

They'd won the day, but Bruce couldn't relax. He was on edge still, tense and just _waiting_ for the next vision of Diana's death. It would come, he knew, sooner or later. Whether in his dreams or at any other time, he was going to see her die again. Then it would be his job, once again, to keep her alive.

A brief moment of weariness came over him. This was too big to do alone – but who could he tell? Who would _believe _him?

**---**

It wasn't often Alfred could sneak up on his not-so-young charge. He could manage it occasionally, but not frequently. It was also rarely, if ever, when Bruce was wearing the cape and cowl. This particular morning, however, Alfred had been standing in front of Master Bruce for the past minute and a half, and he hadn't so much as blinked.

Alfred had tried the subtle and then not-so-subtle clearing of the throat. Neither had worked. More direct action was called for. Alfred opened his mouth. Bruce looked up. "Alfred, I need your help."

It was Alfred's turn to be speechless. Admittedly, Master Bruce had needed his help before, be it in raising him or dealing with the aftermath of Batman's particularly vicious fights – but never with a case. Not one to stay flustered for long, however, Alfred nodded. "Of course, sir. What exactly do you require assistance with?"

There was a slight pause. "Diana."

The Englishman blinked, and then fought the urge to grin stupidly. "What is it about the princess that is vexing you, Master Bruce?"

Batman pushed back the cowl, then hesitated again. "I've... been having... dreams... lately."

"About Miss Diana?"

"Yes."

"And?" Alfred prompted, noting that Bruce didn't seem to have very happy about said dreams.

"Now they're visions."

A silver eyebrow was raised. "Visions."

A nod, followed by an almost pained expression. "They're all of her death."

Alfred frowned. "Her death?" he echoed. This was clearly not what he had initially thought it was.

Bruce nodded. "So far I've been able to prevent it from happening – but that's the thing, Alfred, they're _all _coming true. First it was her falling, then an explosion. A few days ago it was the _Kraken, _and I prevented that too. Don't misunderstand, I'm glad I've been able to, but I don't understand what's happening to me."

"Do you see anyone else's untimely demise, sir?" Alfred asked.

"No. Just hers."

Alfred was silent for a moment. "I can think of one possible explanation," he began, "but you will probably not like it."

"At this point any explanation would be nice," Bruce sighed.

"Very well. It could be that a certain bond has been formed between you and Miss Diana. I hesitate to use the word 'mystical', but it is the only adjective that fits."

"You mean magic?" Bruce asked, his voice heavy with scepticism. "Alfred, there's about as much magic in me as there is in the _Batmobile_."

"Perhaps, but is there not such a thing as psychic energy as well?" Alfred did not add that there was enough magic around Diana for the both of them.

"So Diana and I are connected psychically?"

"It is one possibility."

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let's say for one minute that that _isn't _a ridiculous notion, why would I be linked to Diana?"

It was Alfred's turn to be scornful. "I think you know, sir."

"Then I'm playing dumb," Bruce glared.

_Have you not always when the princess is involved? _"Indeed, Master Bruce. Then allow me to simplify. Possibly by ignoring the attraction between you, it has been channeled into connecting you in a different way."

"I've ignored attractive women all my life, Alfred, why would Diana be any different?"

"Because she _is _different," his surrogate father reminded him gently. Indeed, the princess of the Amazons had been defying all expectations since she had first flown into 'Man's World' and Bruce's life.

---

**A/N: Review please!**


	7. Two Weeks

**A/N: First of all - thank you to Angel Queen. I ask way to much of her, but she goes beyond par every time. **

**Ok, so epically long chapter. Just so you know, I'm going to hide in deepest darkest Africa now, because by the time you get to the end, you're going to want to cause me serious injury. So thank you for the reviews, but now I'm getting on a plane. Bye!**

**Chapter Seven - Two Weeks**

"_Flash to Diana_."

The princess touched her com-link. "Go ahead, Flash."

"_Your mother is on line three – she wants to talk to you._"

Happiness rose in Diana – it was all too rare that she and her mother communicated.

After she and Shayera had returned from Tartarus, the relationship between mother and daughter had been slowly healing itself. She was in no doubt that one day she would be allowed back onto Themyscira – and that was a joyful thought.

She rose from the game of chess she was playing against herself and went over to the built-in videophone in her quarters. "Mother!"

Onscreen, Hippolyta's face smiled. "Good morning, my little sun and stars."

Diana grinned back. "Actually it is sometime in the afternoon here," she said. "But, Mother, how are you communicating with me?"

"Demeter," her mother replied. "She heard my heart's longing for you and created a way for us to talk from Themyscira."

Diana nodded in understanding. Well, if anyone would understand a mother's love for her daughter, it would be the goddess of the earth. "How are you, Mother?"

"Well as ever," Hippolyta replied. "But matters of the Senate require my attention today – I only have a few moments to share with you."

"Is everything alright?" Diana asked.

"Of course," Hippolyta said. "All our sisters are well, and all miss you, of course."

"I miss you all too," Diana sighed. "Yesterday we were called to a mission in Atlantis – I felt so... compressed. There is so much sky at home that it was a disquieting notion, being underneath so much water."

Hippolyta smiled. "Yet now you are floating in the biggest sky of all."

The princess nodded. "I suppose I am."

"Now – to the reason I am calling. I want you to come home for a… how do they say it in Man's World?"

"You mean a vacation?" Diana asked.

"Yes," Hippolyta smiled. "A vacation. Come home."

Diana's acquiescence was ready on her lips... until it vanished. She really did want to go home, but she also wanted to – what was that phrase again? – strike while the iron was hot with Bruce.

They'd almost kissed in Atlantis, and he couldn't ignore that. Whether or not he'd be willing to talk about it was something she had to determine. If she disappeared off to Themyscira for however long it would be, then he'd certainly refuse to acknowledge it when she returned. No, this had to be done now. She'd just... lay it all out there, draw a line in the sand and wait for him to cross it. Or not.

Her hesitation was obvious to her mother. "What is it, my little sun and stars?"

"I have..." No point in telling her mother there was a man involved until there definitely _was _a man involved, so she fudged a little. "...some business I need to attend to here."

Hippolyta's face broadened into a smile. "Then you will come home?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "I'll arrive later on today."

"Wonderful. I will spread the good news. Until then, my daughter."

Diana smiled. "Goodbye, Mother."

The screen flickered, and then the queen's face vanished. Diana walked backward to her bed, sitting on it with a sigh. It would be nice to be at home. However her confrontation with Bruce was going to go, she would need time. If his answer was yes then _he _would need time to be accustomed to the idea of them as a couple, a unit. He would need time to get used to the idea of being part of a _together_.

She straightened her shoulders and walked over to her closet. She'd go to the Cave, and then she'd transport home. She pulled on a long white chiton, then a deep blue pashmina, securing it with a gold broach. It may be warm on Themyscira, but in the Cave it was cold and dank.

She touched her com-link once ready. "Wonder Woman to Batman."

"_Go ahead_."

"We need to talk."

There was a pause, and she could almost see him grimace. Finally he spoke again. "_Fine. Transport down_."

She smiled. "Alright."

She made her way over to the transporter room. The Batcave's coordinates weren't in the system – ever-cautious Batman had seen to that – but the other six Founders all memorised the correct sequence. She typed them in manually and then stepped on to the platform. Green Arrow, operating the controls, whistled as he glanced up at her.

"Now I know you have a hot date," he grinned.

She smiled. "Maybe I do, Ollie." _Maybe I do. _"Transport me down."

He pressed the relevant button, and the Watchtower dissolved around her. The Batcave appeared in its place.

Bruce was waiting for her in his customary chair, suit on but cowl off. His hands were steepled before him. "Princess."

"I'm going back to Themyscira," she said quietly.

He stiffened, and she hurriedly corrected how that must have sounded. "Only for two weeks, and then I'm coming back, but –" She cut herself off with a small noise of frustration.

"What am I supposed to do with this information?" he asked, not understanding why she was choosing to tell him rather than simply logging it at as vacation in the Watchtower computer.

"Nothing, I just… Hera, I started this all wrong –" She took a deep breath, and started again, her voice purposeful and determined. "Bruce, I love you," she blurted, almost defiantly. "You know that, and please don't say anything, I'm not looking for reciprocation…"

Another deep breath, while he sat there completely frozen with his mouth wide open. Of course he knew, he'd known for years, but thought they'd made a silent agreement never to actually _talk _about it.

Diana continued. "…but I am looking for an answer. I know that you're probably thinking we've had this conversation, and you're right, we have. Back then… I didn't want to believe you, but you were right…" she admitted, staring hard at the floor. When she looked up again though, there was a fire in her blue gaze that hadn't been there a moment ago. "But the League is fading, Bruce. We're not needed. I'm not saying Gotham doesn't still need you," she added, seeing him about to interrupt, "but three years ago reason one, at least, mattered. Now I don't think it does."

"Really?" he asked, deadpan.

"Really," she said earnestly. "And I don't think you can quite convince yourself of it either."

He cocked an eyebrow. "So you're giving me a deadline?"

She shrugged and took a step closer, putting her arms behind her back. "If you want to think of it in those terms, then yes. I'm not asking for marriage, or an admission of love. Just a first date will do. So," she said, coming to the point, "two weeks. If the answer is no…" Her voice faltered, but she carried on anyway, seemingly unwavering about her decision to get through this.

He wondered how long she'd been practising.

"…it'll hurt," she finally said, tone quiet and sad. "I'm not denying that, but I'll heal. I'll move on and we won't ever speak of this again." From the barely-concealed pleading expression on her face, she was inwardly begging him not to say no, but she didn't say anything more, making a gesture with her head that indicated: _There. I'm done. _She took another step toward him, then another, finally bending to run her hand along his jaw line and kiss him tenderly, lingeringly. So sweetly that it would have been impossible for him not to kiss back. "See you in two weeks," she whispered against his mouth, eyes closed. Then she turned away.

Unable to stop himself, he called out to her. "Diana."

She stopped.

"Why now?" he asked. After all this time, he'd begun to think with mingled hope and dread that she'd given up on him. Apparently he'd been wrong.

She didn't face him again, but did turn her face so that he could see her profile. "Because you can't wait forever," she said quietly. "And I won't. Goodbye, Bruce." Without another word, she lifted into the air and silently floated up. He watched her form until she was lost in the darkness.

Finally he turned back to the computers, but no longer saw the footage he'd been reviewing. Two weeks. His last chance.

* * *

The two weeks were almost up. Though she'd tried so hard to relax, forget temporarily about Man's World, she had not been able to stop that from being the first thought, the one she woke with every morning. How many days were left before she heard his decision.

It had been easier than she'd feared it would be to slip back into the routine of her childhood. She rose at dawn, attending prayers with her mother. Then breakfast, and then sparring. It amazed her how much she'd improved in her swordplay - though she had been the most skilled Amazon before she left the island, it was only in the ancient style. She had a feeling her improvement was due mostly to her sparring sessions with Bruce. The man didn't use _one _style of swordplay; he used a dozen. As with his martial arts, he never settled into one pattern. It was the best way to keep his enemies unsettled. Routine meant predictability, which meant weakness. It wasn't until she sparred with her mother and Antiope that Diana realised just how much she'd been forced to update her own fighting style.

But each time she was alone, her thoughts drifted inevitably toward what Bruce would be doing, what he was thinking, if he'd made that decision yet. And when she found herself staring into space, she broke from her reverie with a little shock of guilt. She was meant to be here to spend time with her mother and sisters, not to brood over a man. Thesmophoria was approaching, and for Diana to offer herself to Bruce when she did... the timing could hardly have been less auspicious.

Though the festival was meant to promote fertility, women prepared for it by being abstinent sexually – as did all creatures on Themyscira. During the summer months, those Amazons in relationships shared beds with one another and nothing else. Likewise, the stallions were kept strictly away from the mares. The festival allowed them to share a little in Demeter's suffering – when all vegetation withered under the hot sun, it was because the Earth goddess mourned the loss of her daughter, locked in Tartarus. It lasted for three days, and then Diana would return to Man's World.

Until then, all the Amazons would fast for the first day, eat only pomegranate seeds on the second – in memory of the imprisoned Persephone – and then celebrate the end of the festival with a meat feast in the evening of the third day.

Diana had never had a problem with fasting for religious festivals, and this one was no exception – the first day passed as all those prior to it; with her trying not to think about Bruce. This was made easier by the fact that the songs of Persephone and Demeter were beautiful, and hauntingly sad. It focused Diana's attention on her mother, and the two women shared many long talks and embraces, a closeness to their relationship that had been missing since Diana had stolen the armour of Athena. However, on the second day, thing were different.

The princess had spent much of the night before being kept awake by the shrill squeaking of the bats that roosted in the eaves just above her window. It seemed an omen, or possibly a parody of their relationship thus far – each time she rose, she could see no sign of the animals. All she saw was darkness. But they remained there, needling at her senses all night. She wondered if they were a message sent by the gods – that her words to Bruce had been false. That no matter his answer, he would never be driven from her heart. She could not imagine many fates worse than that.

Her brooding over it made her distracted the next day; forgetting words to ancient chants she'd learned as a girl, or losing all interest in preserving the customs of Thesmophoria. She wasn't sure if her mother had noticed her pensiveness, but when Hippolyta had to step in to prevent her inadvertently bringing the gods' wrath on her head, Diana knew she had no choice but to tell her mother what had been bothering her.

When a seed Diana had just extracted from the pomegranate in her hand fell to the floor, she cursed under her breath and absently reached for it. Suddenly her mother's rough hand gripped her wrist, and the queen's voice was shocked. "Diana, what are you doing?"

"What's the matter?"

"A seed fell to the floor – you cannot pick it up!"

Diana blinked. _Seed falling to the floor... _Her eyes widened. "Great Hera!"

When a seed fell of the ground, it became food for the dead, and was therefore forbidden to the living. To eat it would bring the wrath of Persephone down on her, if not the goddess of the harvest as well.

Diana shivered. "Demeter forgive me," she breathed

Hippolyta let go of her daughter's arm. "What is wrong, my little sun and stars? You have been distracted since you arrived here."

"I am sorry, Mother," she apologised, "I am happy to be home, but... I confess my thoughts have been elsewhere."

"Back in Patriarch's World, perhaps?" Hippolyta asked shrewdly.

Diana nodded. "Yes... though if I tell you the cause I do not think you will approve."

"Ah. A man then?"

The princess nodded. "Yes. I… I have fallen in love, Mother."

As expected, Hippolyta frowned. Diana twisted her mouth. "This is why I did not wish to tell you."

Hippolyta took her daughter's hand. "Do not misunderstand, Diana. Though I cannot say I am happy about the idea, I know you will have only chosen someone worthy. I hope you are right."

"He is, _Mitera_," she said earnestly. "He is worthy of me, and I know he could make me happy, it is only –" She cut off unhappily.

"Only?" Hippolyta prompted quietly.

"It is only trying to make _him _realise that. He is afraid of hurting me, and I know there is always a certain amount of risk in love, but I..."

"You believe the rewards will be worth it," Hippolyta finished, an odd gleam in her eyes. She sighed. "I remember feeling that way too, Diana. I would only counsel you to be cautious. Love him, by all means, but be sure that you do not give him all you are. He is mortal, remember. When he dies – make sure you have enough of yourself left to survive it."

Diana nodded, though she did not tell Hippolyta that she had a suspicion it was already too late. Whether he had accepted it or not, Bruce did have her, body and soul. "Thank you."

* * *

"LuthorCorp have been in touch – they want to buy Wayne Chem from us. Again."

Bruce frowned at Lucius. "You'd think after seventeen 'no's' they'd get the picture."

"Well Luthor is nothing but stubborn," Fox said dryly. "Superman proves that."

Bruce smirked. "True." He frowned. "The only reason I can think of for them to want it again would be for then new application of nanotechonolgy we're about to patent."

"But no one knows about that," Fox pointed out. "Think they've got a man inside?"

Bruce shrugged. "Can't rule out it out –"

---

_I duck as there's yet another explosion, this one coming from City Hall. Most of the upper east-side is in ruins. I have no idea how the Joker's managed to plant so many bombs so quickly after his escape from Arkham. I haven't been able to prevent them _all _from going off because naturally he'd planned a distraction – the best sniper in the Asylum also broke out with him, and targeted Commissioner Gordon. I barely got there in time – Jim has a bullet in his shoulder instead of his brain. _

_When the bombs started detonating, I called in the League. GL, Superman and Captain Marvel are trying to prevent any more from blowing up, if there are any. Flash, Diana, Shayera and myself are scouring the smoking ruins of our failures, searching for any survivors. Since it's the Joker, from the air the fires burn into the shape of a smiley face. _

_Finally there doesn't seem to be anyone left. Alive anyway. We've pulled out twenty-seven people out of a possible two hundred. The rest are all dead. At least Green Lantern prevented another bomb from going off. Superman's did go off, but he lobbed it into the upper atmosphere beforehand, preventing any more deaths. _

"_Is that it, you think?" Flash, beside me, asks. _

_I put a hand to my com-link. "Superman. Scan the buildings from the air to make sure there are no more survivors." _

"_Roger that." _

_About thirty seconds later, his voice comes back. "Just the one, and I've got her." _

"_Good work. Bring her to the ambulances." I take my hand from my com-link and look at my comrades. They all look a little battered, but no worse for wear. The only one missing is Diana. _

_Flash answers my silent question. "She was by the Ritz last time I saw her, doing a last sweep." He frowns. "Thought she'd be back by now though." _

_I nod, contacting her. "Wonder Woman, come in." _

_Nothing. Or at least there is a sound, but it doesn't fit with the situation. Giggling?_

"_Diana, are you there? Respond!" _

_The voice that answers me, though female, is not Diana's. "_Sorry, B-Man, the little princess can't come to the phone right now_!"_

_I clench my fist as fear floods me. "Quinn. Where is she?" _

_At my side, I see Flash's Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallows. "_Oh she's here. She's just not in a talking mood. Might be in a dancing one though, let's see, huh?_" _

_There is the unmistakable sizzle of electricity, overlaid by Harley's hysterical shrieks of laughter. I can see in my head Diana's limp body twitching – a grotesque, gruesome picture that will not go away. Superman, newly-landed, takes a step forward, though at what, I don't think even he knows. I certainly don't care. _

_Then the Joker's voice comes along. "_What are you – Harley, you idiot!"

"What? Mister J, I just –"

_There's a slap, and the corresponding cry of pain from Harley. Then it's the Joker's voice that comes through. He still isn't talking to me. "_I know I'm insane, but pissing off an Amazon? That's crazy even for me!"

"Aw, Puddin', don't be mad! It's only to lure Bats!"

_I can still hear Diana being tortured in the background. I have no idea if she's conscious or not, but if she is, then she's refusing to scream. _Hold on, Princess_, I think. _I'm coming. _I only need the Joker to reveal his location. _

"I wasn't going to _lure_ him, I'm going to tell him where we are, you stupid bitch!"

_There's a fizz of static for a moment – the Joker relieving Harley of Diana's com-link. "Joker, where –" _

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid the Joker's on another call right now_," he says. "_Hold please!_" _

_Clark shoots me a desperate look at that says, 'how do you put up with this?'. I don't. Frankly I never have. _

_Finally the electricity stops, but now the Joker's talking to Diana. "_Well Wonder Breath, time to say bye-bye. Normally I'd torture you for a while longer, but thanks to Harley here... I'd rather have you dead than on _my _tail."

"_NO!" I yell. _

_Too late – he empties a full clip into her. If she's tied up, then she won't be able to raise her bracers. She's defenceless. She's- She's..._

_---_

"Bruce?"

"Diana!" he breathed.

When a hand touched his shoulder, Bruce jumped, then found himself looking into Fox's concerned face. "Are you alright?"

Bruce shook his head slowly. "No..." He looked up, not seeing Lucius. "I have to go."

It took a good portion of his self-control not to sprint through the lobby to the parking lot. Driving through Gotham back to the manor it had run out. Thank God for Buggati Veyron. He didn't give any cops that might have been monitoring his speed chance to catch up to him, pushing two hundred and fifty miles per hour all the way.

She was alive, she was alive, she was alive, she was alive, she was alive, she was alive...

Exiting the garage, he did run through the manor to the kitchen. Alfred was in there cooking dinner, and looking quite concerned. "Master Bruce, what –"

"Alfred, I need you to repeat this back to me," he said quickly. "'There is no possible way for the Joker to reach Themyscira.'"

Without pausing to ask why, or skipping a single beat, Alfred did as requested. He even emphasised in the right place. "There is no _possible_ way for the Joker to reach Themyscira."

There was a silence as Bruce nodded, exhaling slowly. He'd been right. Hearing it from someone else let him believe it. He sank into a seat. "Thank you, Alfred."

From somewhere, his butler procured a cup of coffee and placed it in front of Bruce. "It happened again, I take it?"

He nodded. "Harley electrocutes and tortures her, and then Joker shoots her so she won't come after him."

"No," Alfred said, his tone one he hadn't used with the man in front of him for decades now, "he doesn't."

"I have to warn Gordon."

Leaving a cooling cup of coffee and a very worried Englishman inside the kitchen, Bruce left, heading to the Cave. He was less terrified than he had been five minutes ago, but still not anywhere approaching calm. He had to keep going over the reasons she wouldn't be in danger from the Joker. Over and over them. The Joker was in Arkham's maximum security wing. Even if he was out, there was no way for him to get to Theymscira – he didn't know where it was, and even if he did, he was no match for thousands of Amazons, all of whom would be hell bent on wiping him off the earth for profaning their sacred island.

However, Diana was due back this evening. In fact he'd spent most of the last week thinking about it, and come up with the same conclusion he had the night she'd left – that it was pointless. Before he started having visions, it would have been an equally easy decision. It was too dangerous. Too risky. It would lead to her being hurt. It would lead to distractions from the mission. Gotham would take a back-seat. Their relationship would take a back-seat.

Now, though, the mission had changed. He hated the idea of destiny, but then he also hated the idea of having visions – and there could be no doubt that he was having those. There was only one conclusion. He was having them for a reason, and that reason had to be that he was meant to protect Diana. He was meant to be around her. To be with her he wasn't sure – but to be together was something they both wanted, and he was tired of pretending otherwise. When she got back, that was what he'd tell her. That was what he'd been planning on telling her in the first place.

For now, though, he had to ban her from Gotham until he was sure that it would be a cold day in hell before the Joker ever got out. If he _did _get out, then she'd be in immediate danger.

* * *

When did locking up criminals involve so much paperwork?

Signing his name for what would be the seventeenth time that day, Jim Gordon dropped his pen on the desk once finished, and took his glasses off, rubbing his face. _I need to retire... _

It hadn't been like this when he was a rookie. True, Gotham was going down the hill quickly then, and almost every person in his department had been corrupt, but at least he hadn't felt so _tired _then. It wasn't just tiredness at the end of the day anymore, it was getting up in the morning. It was driving into work, it was eating, it was... everything. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe this fatigue hadn't come on because of his career.

Maybe it had been the minute Sarah died.

Maybe it had been when Babs was shot.

Or when Batman suddenly came on the scene.

Wherever it had come from, all Jim knew was that his desire to stop doing this was slowly eroding his desire to keep trying. That's all he was doing, really. Trying.

The silence in the room deepened. Jim put his glasses back on, not even pretending to flinch at the man's sudden, silent appearance. "What can I do for you, Batman?"

"Triple the guard on the Joker."

Frowning, Jim turned around to see the Dark Knight standing implausibly just behind him. "Why?"

"Tip. He's going to break out."

Jim's frown deepened. He was _going _to break out? And wasn't _triple _a little overkill? Apparently sensing his doubt, Batman elaborated. "Reliable source," he said. "The Joker's planning bombing attacks across the city."

"Soon?"

He nodded. "Soon. Triple the guard, Jim."

"I'll double it, certainly, but the Vice-Presidential visit has made resources tight. I need all the men I can get."

"Fucking politicians..." Batman growled.

Never, in all Jim's memory, had he ever heard Batman swear. Let alone at a politician. That was the whole point of Batman, anyway – to preserve people's choice, to preserve democracy. What the hell was going on?

Finally the Caped Crusader nodded. "Double, fine."

"While you're here," Jim said, remembering something. He turned around to pick up a piece of paper from his desk. "We're having trouble tracking down –"

Inevitably, though, when he turned back, Batman was already gone. Jim sighed. _I really need to retire... _

* * *

It wasn't enough.

Double the guard on the Joker was six men. _Six_. Added to the orderlies at Arkham it was about thirty six, but as they'd proven a hundred times in the past, none of the orderlies were at all effective. So six people against however many goons the Joker had coming to pull him out. Six against the Joker alone wouldn't be enough. Nowhere _near _it.

At least he knew where Harley was. She wasn't behind bars, but even if she did get her 'Puddin' out, then he knew where they would retreat to. He looked at the clock, calculating what time Diana would be returning from Themyscira. Soon. He needed to tell her the truth as soon as she landed, but there was no way he could leave Gotham unprotected. Tim was always around, but he was reluctant to leave him to deal with the Joker alone. He'd have to ask Dick.

Reaching for his PDA, he encountered an empty pouch in his belt, and cursed softly. Of course – his PDA was now sitting in the slime at the bottom of the river, thanks to Poison Ivy. Crossing the Cave, he crossed to the supply room. The shelves were stacked with every gadget his imagination could come up with, and several spare PDA's. Turning a new one on, he typed out a swift, curtly worded order to Nightwing to get to Gotham. Stowing it in his belt, he headed for the computer, intending to send an email to Dick's home computer as well, just in case his adopted son was in the mood for defiance this evening.  
**  
**Just before he reached the seat, Bruce paused, remembering something. Crossing to the display case that held the relics of Batman's past – his first suit, Dick's Robin outfit, Jason's costume – Bruce keyed in his password, then knelt to access the safe camouflaged perfectly in the floor. It had no dial or keypad; only a fingerprint scanner. Three index fingerprints would open it: his, Alfred's and Dick's. It was virtually empty, containing only five envelopes. Bruce Wayne's will resided in the office of his over-priced lawyer, but Batman's was in this safe. As well as that, there were four personal letters – one for his surrogate father, one addressed to each of his sons. The last only bore one name, each letter inscribed with care and love. _Diana. _

It was something he'd written the night they returned from the future. The night he knew two things for certain.

His certainties had changed a lot since then. Well, one had.

But with the removal of that one, it had made this letter obsolete. In fact thinking about what he'd actually written… he chuckled. What an utter fool he'd been – even writing this, surely, some part of him had recognised how completely futile it had been to think that Diana wouldn't be able to – Well, to make him realise he could be with her. And the most wonderful thing was, she hadn't been trying, hadn't pushed it all this time. She'd just been Diana. She'd had patience and trusted to the fact that at the end of the day, his heart would win out.

And it had. Even over the Bat, it had.

An alert sounding from the computer made him look up: a breakout from Arkham. The Joker.

All thoughts of the letter were erased instantly; dropping it on the keyboard, he sprinted over to the Batmobile and sped away, feeling grim determination fuel him. Diana was all that mattered.

* * *

"Remember you are always welcome here."

Diana reminded herself never to take those words for granted, and nodded. "I know. Thank you, Mother."

Hippolyta kissed her forehead. "May Hera watch over you, my little sun and stars."

Diana hugged her mother one last time, and then turned, walking up the ramp into her jet. Once in the cockpit, she started up the engines and lifted gently up from Themyscira. Once she was about a mile away, she contacted the Watchtower. J'onn answered.

"This is Wonder Woman. I'm returning now," she said.

Onscreen, her Martian friend smiled. "Acknowledged. It'll be good to have you back, Diana. We've all missed you."

"I've missed you too, J'onn. See you soon," she smiled, though her heart fluttered.

Was that true? Had they _all _missed her? Had he? She sighed. At least she'd find out soon, one way or another. She knew Bruce – if he did love her, then he'd be onboard when she docked. She wasn't expecting him to sweep her into his arms and kiss her hell out of her, but it he was there at all... it would be enough.

Though the sweeping and kissing would be nice.

She was about ten minutes away from the Watchtower when J'onn's face came back onscreen. "Diana, how fast can you get to Gotham?"

She frowned. "I'm about five minutes from the Eastern Seaboard, why?"

"Batman... is in trouble."

Something in her voice made her blood run cold. This wasn't outgunned or outnumbered kind of trouble. _Hera_. "What's happened?" she asked sharply.

Though since his return to the League J'onn had become far more emotive in his speech, during times of crisis he would lapse back into his monotone voice. It was his coping mechanism, and Diana had learned to take it as a warning when something truly terrible was going on. It was totally devoid of feeling now.

"Batman's been captured by the Joker," he said. "We think he's using technology to shield Batman's mind, since I am unable to sense his location, and his com-link has been removed. Rendezvous with –"

"Wait," she said, "J'onn, if you can't sense him and his com-link is off, how do you know he's been captured by the Joker?"

There was a pause while her friend looked very much like he did _not _want to tell her. "J'onn!" she snapped, her tone brooking no further dissension.

"The Joker is... televising his torture of Batman."

Diana's stomach dropped.

* * *

Fucking visions.

It wasn't the first time he'd been tortured. Bruce was under no illusions it would be the last. This was an improvement from the last time, actually. Slightly – no broken bones yet. Though it being _televised _wasn't helping. He wasn't sure which was worse; the chalk white face of the Joker, or that damn red light on the camera, blinking on and off.

The League had no idea where he was either – his com-link had been forcibly torn from his cowl, and from somewhere the Joker had procured some CADMUS technology. One of the more innocuous inventions they'd come up with: a telepathy-blocker, attached to his cowl where the com-link had been. It was preventing J'onn from locating him.

Then the Joker flicked the switch again, and then all thoughts or curses were wiped from Bruce's head with the flood of electrical current that sizzled through him. Clenching his jaw to keep the pain at bay wasn't a problem; every muscle in his body was being forcibly clenched for him.

At the edges of the pain, he could hear the Joker still taunting him. "Why, Batman, I never knew you danced. You're rhythm's _all _off, though. C'mon, Harley, let's show him how it's done, huh?"

The two of them began waltzing around the room, and Harley's shrill giggling joined in with the Joker's cackling. Then Harley made the mistake of stepping on his foot. He shoved her away hard with a noise of disgust, turning back to Bruce as she fell to the ground.

"C'mon, Batsy, just one little scream and I'll switch it off." He paused, and Bruce didn't make a sound. "No? Not even one, teensy, weensy little cry of agony to give me?"

Still nothing. "Urgh," he grunted. "Never mind, Bats, _we'll _get there. After I've had a leak."

Harley waited only a few minutes after he'd gone before she turned the electricity off. Bruce slumped in his restraints, panting in a futile effort to catch his breath. Somehow, he didn't think she'd done that as an act of mercy...

* * *

"What can I do?" she demanded, struggling through the panic still attacking the edges of her senses.

"Rendezvous with Nightwing. He may have something."

"_May _is not enough, J'onn!" she yelled.

"I know, Diana. But at the moment it's all we have."

* * *

"Y'know, Bats, I'm gettin' real tired of you bein' in the way of me and Mister J!"

Bruce said nothing, but regained his glare from somewhere.

"Everything I do, no matter if I bust him out of the Asylum, no matter how many robberies I commit, no matter how many stupid people I _kill_," she said, poking him in the chest, "I _still _can't get him to spend more than _five minutes _with me. Even couples counselling isn't working!"

"Let me out of here, _right now_, Quinn," he growled, even as some random part of his brain asked incredulously, _Couples counselling?_

She flicked the electrical current back on. Bruce stiffened in pain once more. "You supposed to _listen _when somebody talks, B-man!" she complained. She switched it off again, and continued. "Anyway, I finally figured out what the problem is!" she cried, spinning back to him with a mad grin.

Bruce suddenly had a very good idea what the problem was.

"It's _you_!" she said with an air of triumph. "He's always goin' on about Batman-this and Batman-that. And y'know what? I'm sick of it!"

His glare narrowed.

"So y'know what I'm gonna do? I'm gonna take _you _outta the math!"

Throughout all the years he'd been dealing with Harley Quinn and the Joker, he had not once underestimated the former Doctor Quinzel. In fact he'd taken great pains not to. So Batman was well aware that she was too capable of killing. Apparently... this was it.

_Diana... I'm so sorry. _This was almost ridiculous. He'd come here to save her. Now he couldn't even tell her the truth. He would never tell her –

Then Harley did something unexpected. Unexpected and only slightly less dire than killing him. She reached forward, and on national television, ripped his cowl off.

_Oh shit. _

* * *

"Alright," Diana barked. "I'm en route, but keep working, J'onn. We need a better plan!"

"We're working on it, Di –" Suddenly J'onn broke off, his eyes glowing orange. Diana felt a surge of hope. "I've found him!" he suddenly said, voice rising for the first time. "Diana, I'm transmitting the coordinates to you now, get there as fast as-"

"Faster," she snapped out, feeding the incoming data into the navigation system. "Hermes, aid my flight!"

* * *

Even Harley recognised him. Her eyes bugged for a moment, and then she burst into hysterical laughter. "No friggin' way!" There was more high-pitched giggling.

Then the door slammed open.

* * *

"Diana –"

"_What_, J'onn?!" she demanded.

"He's... been unmasked. His secret identity..."

Dread filled Diana. That made no sense. From what she knew of the Joker, he thrived off Batman. _Needed _him to exist, order to his madness, a force to struggle against, since, according to his twisted logic, there was point in 'humbling' normal law enforcement. Unmasking him would have given him no advantage.

"Why?" she asked hurriedly. "What –"

"Harley Quinn," he said. "She waited until the Joker was out of the room –"

_NO!_

"We're on the way, Diana, but you'll get there first."

She was only capable of allowing one word past her compressed lips. "Hurry."

_

* * *

_

The Joker's voice was, for once, without any kind of mirth. It was almost... shocked. Disappointed. "Harley... Harley, Harley, Harley..."

Apparently under the impression that she was about to get a reward or a smile for her work, Harley stepped forward. "I knew it! See, Puddin', we can forget about Batman now –"

She got the smile, but it was showing too many teeth. It was, in fact, a snarl. The next thing she got was a backhand. Followed by a punch to her jaw. Three of her teeth forcibly removed. Another seven cracked. Once her lover had pummeled her into unconsciousness, he allowed Harley's limp form to drop to the floor.

Then he faced Bruce.

* * *

Diana set the jet down outside the building he was in. It was an abandoned factory, and huge. J'onn told her Bruce was in the centre. The quickest way was also the most direct.

She leapt into the air, heading for the huge glass roof. Smashing through would be the best – and most violently satisfying – way.

Still, she was half a mile away.

* * *

"Forget Batman?" the Joker muttered. "She never was a bright one, Bats –" He stopped, frowning. "Oh, now I can't call you that without your face on!"

He picked up the cowl Harley had dropped, jammed it roughly back onto Bruce's head, apparently a little happier. "As I was saying; why would I want you –"

He stopped again, this time looking completely furious. He stormed back to Harley and kicked her, hard, in the side. When he turned back to Bruce, he reached into his jacket pocket. Pulled out a cut-throat razor.

"Probably not how it should've ended, Bats. But you're just of no use to me anymore."

Then his right hand blurred, right to left, in one, swift, cut.

* * *

**A/N: *Hides* Um... review please...**


	8. Some Days

**A/N: Thank you for all the reviews! **

**Chapter Eight - Some Days**

Some days, good overcomes evil. Some days, the day is saved, the ship is dredged from the depths, the stars shine and the rainbow crowns the sky. Some days, in _deus ex machina_, the gods descend, save the hero, the hero saves the damsel, and they ride off into the sunset together.

Today is not one of those days.

Today, evil overcomes good. Today the day is not saved, the ship sinks, the stars implode, and all that crowns the sky are thunderclouds. Today, the gods remain idle, the hero is lost, the damsel will never be safe again, and there will be no sunset, only darkness.

Even if she hadn't seen it with her own eyes, Diana would have known. Her heart, pounding in her chest seconds before, gave a lurch, a spasm that caused pain to shoot through her limbs.

Still, she had seen it for herself. She saw that terrible flash of silver, and the brightness of the crimson that followed. Everything stopped. Diana understood then, the vomit-inducing imagery of the phrase _grinning from ear to ear_ – because the crescent that the Joker had painted across Bruce's neck did stretch from one to the other. There was too much blood escaping all at once. There was that grotesque gurgling, the air escaping with an exhausted sigh.

He was dead within seconds.

Unexpectedly, calm descended.

There was nothing she could do for him now. Her gaze fell on the Joker. Except, she realized, avenge him. In the time the Clown Prince took to take his next breath, to carry on to his trademark maniacal, shattering laughter, Diana's hand was around his neck. He tried to breathe and only choked, his eyes bulging in an inappropriately comic manner.

Diana looked down at the squirming creature in her grasp.

It might have been easier – more justifiable, perhaps, for her rage and grief to have overwhelmed her, but they didn't. Instead, it was a survival reflex. All emotion was buried. It was what she'd been trained to do, after all. A warrior did not grieve dead comrades until the battle was over, for good or ill. When her enemy lay broken at her feet, then would be the time to honour fallen heroes. For now, her mind was unexpectedly clear – the clarity of numbness. It would have been better if her judgment had been impaired, if her thoughts had been clouded by fury.

But they weren't.

As such, it was nothing more, and nothing less, than hard, cold murder when Diana's fist smashed through the Clown Prince's skull.

From warrior to killer in one simple, single act.

She looked at the slimy, sticky mess of brain matter on her fist, noting with disinterest the fragments of bone mixed in. She shook her wrist, removing it.

She was vaguely aware of Superman floating down to land just behind her. Then J'onn, Green Lantern, Shayera. Wally. None of them were looking at her – and that was when the trembling started.

She felt like a ghost as she slipped between them, her boots splashing slightly in the pool of blood. There was so much blood. Another splash from slightly behind her – Wally, vomiting. The trembling increased, sweeping in from her extremities until her soul itself shook. Heedless of the warm red stickiness, she ripped his chains apart. Everyone else there flinched as his body hit the ground. Then she knelt, and lifted his torso from the ground, cradling him in her embrace.

She knew it wasn't dignified. She knew that it wasn't the image that everyone else saw. As she broke down, though, Diana didn't care. All she cared about was lying dead, his head resting on her knees. So she lifted his face – still cruelly warm – to hers and washed away the arterial spray with her tears. To the people watching, it was painful to behold; the raw, primal anguish of the grief ripping through her.

To see, it hurt.

To feel, it was unbearable.

She wanted to tear her own heart out rather than have it shattering inside her chest, to wrench her eyes from their sockets rather than have them see his pale face lying there in death. That cry, that desperate, wild, animal crying in pain wasn't her. It couldn't be, because that wasn't a human noise. That scream of distress belonged to some dark, forgotten age long before humans had ever walked the earth. It wasn't possible it could be her.

To her best friend, watching from but feet away, he saw not a woman. He saw a lost, lonely, and devastated girl. Never more hopelessly lost or mired in loneliness than now. Was she forever doomed to be alone, just as Clark himself eventually would be? He'd thought, for a brief, golden moment, that perhaps his two best friends had found each other, that they would follow their colleagues and friends to happiness, but no. Instead his most faithful friend was dead, and the beautiful woman he'd left behind was in an agony far worse than simple death.

Clark Kent, tears stumbling down his own cheeks, moved to Diana's side, and wrapped his arms around her. She did not relinquish her hold on Bruce, but then he had not expected her to. Instead he simply rocked her gently, letting her tears soak into the fabric of his costume.

The other Founders all gathered around, not wanting to say anything; the harshness of Diana's weeping held them all under a terrible spell. None of them wanted to acknowledge that the Seven were now Six.

No one knew how long they were there, all silent, the sun slowly rising and staining the sky with blood. The blood on earth had long since run dry, gone from crimson to a dried crust of brown on Diana's uniform. Her tears were gone too, leaving behind a trembling, pale, silent sadness. When the massive hulk of the second of the Javelins passed over them to hover above the street, Diana suddenly moved, causing everyone to jump. Keeping Bruce cradled against her body, she stood up with his corpse in her arms. He seemed so much more fragile and tiny in death than he ever had in life. He looked… mortal.

They all followed slowly behind her as she walked into the street, carrying his broken body as though it were the most sacred treasure in the world. A beautiful, terrible, revered thing.

* * *

It wasn't often that police officers took their eyes off the road whilst driving at seventy miles an hour. Today, though, both Renee Montoya and her partner had spent most of the journey from MCU staring in increasing horror at the radio. As soon as the Joker's disgusting broadcast had begun, every major network picked it up, and NBC News had been playing on the TV in the office.

Every cop in the office stopped what they were doing to gawk. They couldn't do anything – as clueless about Batman's location as the Justice League were. It wasn't until the mask came off they even knew where he was. With his unveiling, no one had spoken. Well, that wasn't quite true. Benny, the unit's copy boy, had dropped his stack of papers with a loud 'HOLY FUCK – THAT'S BRUCE WAYNE!' – and had promptly gotten slapped upside the head by all the cops in the room. They were no less shocked than he, but somehow yelling it made the whole thing cheap, like jumping out and shouting 'surprise' at a birthday party.

Harvey Bullock and Renee Montoya were on their feet, both looking toward the Commissioner's office and ready to bolt at any second. In the back of her mind, Renee wondered just how many magazine exposés there would now be, how many kiss-and-tells Wayne's many exes would come up with. Still, she had no doubt he'd get out of there – the man was Batman, after all. He never lost.

At her side, Harvey had turned back to the TV, and was shaking his head, softly saying, "It can't be. It just can't be."

She felt a surge of annoyance at her partner. It quite clearly was.

Then Commissioner Gordon had received a message from Nightwing about Batman's whereabouts. He looked straight at the two of them. "Oakhurst Abatoire, go!"

They were gone, and pealing out of the parking lot less than twenty seconds later.

Then it got worse.

The Joker came in. Kicked the shit out of his squeeze – nothing new for their relationship – and Harvey turned the volume up on the radio. Whoever it was at Police HQ had the radio mike pressed right up to the TV, and Montoya was grateful.

"Harvey!" she yelled, glancing through the windshield.

He missed the garbage truck by no more than six inches, but then almost immediately looked back at the radio.

It occurred to Renee, then, that not smashing into that truck had cost them. They'd missed the moment that would change both their lives.

There wasn't a voice anymore. There was a soggy, thump. A claggy sound preceded by the sound of a vase breaking. A wet crunching. They glanced at each other – long enough to confirm that neither of them could identify what that noise was.

With a trembling hand, Renee picked up the mike. "Control. This is Montoya. What the hell just happened?"

She didn't recognise the voice that replied, it shook so badly. "H-He's dead. Batman is dead. And she… Wonder Woman, she… she just killed the Joker."

The silence in the car was complete until they arrived. When Renee pushed open the door, she wanted to immediately shut it. She wanted to run away, to find a dark corner, to hide in a closet and never come out again – because of the screaming. That screaming. Oh God. Oh God, how was it possible for any human being, meta or not, to make that horrible, devastating sound?

Slowly, though, it faded. In the gloom of the building they hadn't dared to set foot in, colours started to appear. Blue, green, black. The bright orange of Hawkgirl's hair. But red. Red was everywhere, it was all she could see, it was –

It was all over Superman. It was all over Wonder Woman, and the piece of dead space she held in her arms. Montoya made eye-contact with her, but the Amazon didn't notice. Nor did she look down at Batman. Renee did. Bruce Wayne's face looked drunkenly slack. Bile pushed up from her stomach, and Renee barely forced it down again. It was so wrong.

They both watched the heroes walk, presumably, into Wonder Woman's invisible jet. The silence came back again. "We should… We should..."

Harvey looked at her. "We should what, Renee?" he asked, sounding utterly helpless.

She gestured at the darkened building, hearing herself mumble words like 'tape', 'crime scene' and 'Joker'. Could they arrest Wonder Woman, she wondered vaguely? She'd just committed homicide on national television, after all. They should.

She just couldn't imagine a LEO anywhere in the world who would. Nor did she think there was any jury anywhere that would convict her. Not after what had happened here today, not after what the Joker had taken from her. From the world.

* * *

Diana couldn't stop touching him. She couldn't stop running her fingers over and over his cheeks. He hadn't shaved for a while – his five o' clock shadow was evident, and rough against her fingertips.

She hadn't closed his eyes yet – unable to say goodbye to that blue. Since leaving Themyscira she had been all over that world, and she knew that that blue was replicated nowhere else.

Shayera, John, and Wally were already in the second Javelin, telling the Question, Black Canary and Vixen what had happened. It was only the shattered remnants of the trinity in her jet now.

There was the tiniest noise behind them. Clark turned. Diana didn't have to. She knew who it was. She took a step back, and allowed son to go to father.

Nightwing didn't say anything. Diana wasn't sure he was even breathing. She wasn't sure if she was. He stood over Bruce for no more than a minute before he ripped the cowl away from the back of the suit.

With trembling fingers, Dick brushed his eyes closed. Cowl in hand, he walked to the front of the jet, pressed the relevant buttons. Ollie's face, sober as he had ever been, appeared onscreen.

"Nightwing, I –"

"Transport me to Barbara Gordon's apartment, Queen," Dick interrupted, his voice soft and cracked. He turned to Diana, and she nodded immediately. Then Ollie engaged the transport, and Dick was gone in the white flash the followed.

Diana turned suddenly. "Alfred," she muttered. "Tim. I have to go, I have to –"

Clark put a hand on her arm; she glared at him with a new rawness in her gaze. "I'll come with you," he said.

"No!" she said sharply. "I don't want Bruce left alone until I get back."

"Diana, he's –"

"_Don't you dare_," she hissed. Then her face softened a little. "The trinity, Kal. Remember? We stick together. Even now."

He nodded and embraced her tightly. "Then hurry back."

She kissed his forehead. "I will."

* * *

When she landed, the doors were open, and Tim was standing on the front steps. She didn't get up the first one before he ran into her arms. "It was fake," he whispered. "Tell me it was fake, Diana, tell me –"

"It wasn't fake, Tim," she replied, not recognising her own voice. "He's… he's gone."

He was still and silent for one second, and then he shuddered into sobs. He didn't say anything, just wept. She was suddenly intensely aware that she held a child in her arms. Whatever else he might have been, however well-trained, however much he'd been forced into acting like an adult, he was, in reality, a devastated, terrified boy.

She knew there was nothing empty words would do, so she stroked his hair silently, waiting for his sobbing to subside. It did eventually, though when he drew back he was as pale as –

"What do we do now?" he asked helplessly.

She took his hand and led him back inside. She knew exactly where Alfred would be. Pushing open the kitchen door, she instantly regretted it. Alfred's grey eyes went straight to her bloodstained uniform. She realised for the first time just how much blood she had on her. It was in her hair, on her face; she licked her sticky lips and tasted iron. On her bodice, her girdle – the Lasso of Truth was stained red – the red of her boots stretched upward to cover her knees, her thighs. Her arms, her hands –

Her hands.

She stared in horror at her right hand. The hand that, half an hour before, had been lodged firmly in the Joker's grey matter. And was now covered in Bruce's blood. Horror overwhelmed her senses – they were touching, they were _mixing_, they couldn't be allowed to do that, it was so wrong –

She retched, just about making it to the kitchen sink before she threw up, vomit splattering against the porcelain. Even as she did, she reached for the tap, and turned the water on, scrubbing hard at her hands, her arms. The water ran pink, then clear. When she didn't stop, and her nails kept tearing at her own skin, the water was running pink again.

Alfred reached over silently and turned it off.

Diana looked at him accusingly. Didn't he understand she wasn't clean – that she never would be again? He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. "Thank you."

She shook her head, not understanding. "But I didn't save him," she whispered.

Alfred's eyes were harder than she'd ever seen them. It was frightening in its own way. "But you avenged him," he said, his voice uncharacteristically cold.

She nodded. So why did it feel like she'd betrayed him?

Tim spoke. She noticed for the first time that he was huddled into a corner, sitting on the kitchen floor. "Where's his – his… Where is he?" he asked, a blanket lack of any emotion in his voice.

"My jet," she said.

"Bring him here," Alfred commanded. "He should lie in the Cave until –" For the first time, his voice broke, and Diana swallowed. The world was ending. She was witnessing it.

Still, she nodded, and put her hand to her com-link. "Superman?"

"I'm here," he said instantly.

"Bring him home."

* * *

She didn't know what to do. She couldn't do anything. She couldn't do nothing, and yet, here she was, doing nothing. Sitting in the commissary in a bloodstained uniform, with an untouched tray of food in front of her. They were avoiding her, all of them. Clark was with Lois. Shayera and John were together. Wally and J'onn were Hera-knew-where, the same with the rest of the League. She'd never known the space to be so silent.

Eventually, she listened to her heart, and her heart ordered her back to Gotham. She got up, flew down to the Manor and landed on the back lawn. As she passed over it, the crowds at the gates came into clear view. There were literally dozens of network vans, hundreds of reporters. Her blood boiled. How dare they? How _dare_ they come and ransack this place, defile it and treat what had happened like some kind of spectacle?

Diana had always believed that her mission was to bring peace and justice to Man's World. To help the people bring out their own, innate, goodness. Now, though, she saw clearly for the first time. These weren't people. They were _animals._

As she touched down, she realised that she had no idea what time it was. It could be three in the morning for all she knew. She checked. Three-fourteen.

Still, Diana pushed open the back door, finding that it wasn't locked. Alfred had left it open for her. He knew she would come back. She locked it behind her. He was standing in the kitchen, a cup of steaming Earl Grey in front of him. It got a rueful smile from her. "The British panacea," she commented quietly.

"Yes," he agreed. "It's my seventeenth cup. Keeps going cold." He looked up. "Would you care for some, my dear?"

"Thank you."

He poured, she wrapped her hands around the cup. They sat in silence until the liquid inside had gone stone cold. Just like Bruce. "I couldn't be anywhere else," she said as the clock struck four.

"No."

"It's too..."

"Yes."

Half past four.

Alfred stood, took her hand. He led her, unresisting, through the Manor. It was not until they got to the doors of the master bedroom she realised where this was going. "It's yours," he said simply.

Diana stared at the double oaken doors. So many times she'd wanted to be in this room. Not like this, though. Never like this. She shook her head. "Alfred, I can't –"

"Yes," he interrupted. "You can." He kissed her forehead. "Try and get some rest, my child."

He left her, and she waited a long time before she found the courage to open the door. The bed was neatly made. Every surface was polished. The pillows were crisp. The door to the bathroom was open, light reflecting off the marble. In the mirror, she looked at herself. She was still covered in blood.

She stripped, letting her uniform drop stiffly to the floor. She knew she'd never wear it again – she couldn't bear to wear it, and neither could she wash it. Instead, she took a plastic wrapper off the dry-cleaned tux that was hanging up in the closet, and slid it over the top. Then she hung it in the closet, out of sight.

Moving back to the bathroom, she splashed her face with cold water. In the corner was a wicker basket, the corner of a dirty towel poking out of the top. Without a second's pause, Diana crossed the room and pulled it out. She buried her nose in it, inhaling Bruce.

She took it with her back to the main room.

Naked and trembling, she curled up in Bruce's bed, clinging to the towel, and lay awake, dry-eyed, for the rest of the night.

* * *

_She's alone in the world. Her friends are gone. Almost everyone she ever cared about lies dead around her. She's not done, though, not yet. She is Champion of the Amazon people. Her armour is testament to that – it is battered, torn, bloodstained, as is the rest of her. Despite the bruises and cuts on the skin, she has never looked more beautiful._

_A smoke-laden breeze catches tattered hair, lifts it toward the sky. Her eyes blaze in defiance as she faces down her foe. The shots begin. Diana raises her bracers, deflects as many as she can. It's not enough. Three will get through before Flash, her only living ally, gets there. _

_Three. That's enough._

_One impacts her shoulder, opening up a red laceration, forcing her to take a step back._

_Two enters just below her ribcage, punching a bleeding wound into her skin, and forcing her back once more._

_Three pierces her skin and goes directly into her heart._

_There is no scream._

_

* * *

_

_**A/N: Review please. **_


	9. Our City

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews! More angst I'm afraid, but then you were expecting that weren't you? **

**Chapter Nine - Our City **

She wasn't sure when or how it had happened, but in those dark days immediately after Bruce's death, Diana had left the Justice League in all but name, to take her new place – with the Batclan. It was strange… there had been no outward decision, but it was never questioned. Batman, who had so fiercely opposed metas working and patrolling in his city, would never have let her be fully integrated into his family. However, Dick, and Alfred and Tim had accepted it with no objection whatsoever. Barbara, too, though they'd never gotten further than small talk in the past, had bonded with her surprisingly quickly.

Gotham was no longer Batman's much-repeated _my city _– it was now _our city. _Which was definitely a good thing, since every criminal on the East coast was making like it was Mardi Gras. Clark told her he'd actually found a flyer up in Metropolis, _advertising_ that Gotham was now a free house. As if there was a single person in the northern hemisphere who didn't know that Batman was gone. Dick had requested that Diana patrol with he and Tim every night, since the influx of scumbags was simply too much to handle for them alone.

She would look at them at the end of every night and think how proud he'd be of his sons.

It was a struggle she went through with every single criminal now – just as she knew it would be. Killing, now that she'd done it once, wasn't addictive, exactly, but it was… It was seductive. It was simple. Permanent. The temptation of it hovered at the edge of her mind constantly, taunting her with just how easy it would be. Because it had been easy. Humans – mortals – were such very fragile things, after all. If nothing else, murdering the Joker had reminded Diana of just how very terrifyingly strong she was. Dick and Tim were not that strong, but still more than capable of taking those last fatal steps toward becoming killers, and they hadn't. Diana didn't think they'd even come close to it.

She'd sworn never to wear the armour of Athena again, and had stuck to that. She wore now whatever she had on, usually something in black - and her bracers, of course. She was still an Amazon... even if she was a broken one. She didn't need a costume to inspire fear now, not with the Joker fresh in the mind of every criminal in the city. Most of the time she only needed to turn up, and they would simply tuck tail and run. It wasn't something she was used to – people saw her, and they opened fire, but they didn't run. They'd run from Batman, though, and it made her feel like she was replacing him. Perhaps she'd feel less like that if there were more of them, if the League got involved too; but she knew that however guilty trying to be Batman made her feel, it would be worse to see anyone else here. It would be like spitting on his grave.

Which was another matter they had to sort out. Where he would be buried did not even require thinking about, of course, but the funeral... Would it be a private, quiet affair? She doubted it. Even with a simple funeral a journalist would do his or her very best to sneak in. Diana was having a hard enough time dealing with the idea of Lois being there. She could cope with the idea of her there as one of Bruce's loves, as Clark's wife, as a friend. The fact that she was a reporter, though... Diana wasn't sure she could trust her anymore. She was running short of names of people she _could _trust.

_It's not paranoia if they really are out to get you. _

The problem was that people were demanding more than a small service. Once the reporters had realised that no one in the Wayne family or connected to it was willing to give them more than a 'no comment', they contented themselves with harassing the police and giving Bruce's many floozies the time of day. Then, once the press vanished, the mourners arrived. Within a day, the flowers were piled four rows deep against the Manor gates. In a week, a dozen rows. It was like the Princess of Wales all over again – and, like then, was probably heading toward a state funeral. There were hundreds of Gotham citizens whose lives he had saved personally, thousands indirectly. Even people who had never been sure of Batman's existence, or been scared about him even if they had known, arrived to pay their respects. More than once, Diana had seen whole families stop there and place something at the gates, or sometimes just lone individuals. So far, no criminal had been stupid enough to try and disrupt the proceedings.

Even the League wasn't immune. Dick ended up having to disable the main inbound teleport link to the Watch and Metro Towers, since now everyone knew where the Batcave was located. Diana had given the override code to the other Founders, with strict instructions that no one else was to come.

Clark had come, ten days after Bruce's death. She was there, as she always was now. She'd let him in through the front door, took him down to the Cave, and held him while he wept. When he'd stopped, he touched Bruce's face. In the chill of the subterranean environment, he was in stasis. "You've cleaned him."

"Did you expect us to leave him as he was?" she spat.

"No, I didn't mean… I-I'm sorry, Diana..."

There was a silence. "I keep expecting it to not be real," she whispered. "For it to have been part of some case, which for some stupid and noble reason he couldn't tell us about. Like to rid Gotham of..."

Clark knew where she was heading, and turned from his best friend. "He would never use you like that, Diana," he frowned.

"Use me?" she questioned. "Clark... I would have done it for him gladly. I still would. If it brought him back... I'd do anything."

His frown deepened. "You don't mean that."

She focused her gaze on Bruce. "What if I do, Clark?" she asked. "What if I told you that if it brought him back I'd happily tear the world apart?"

"Stop it."

She looked at him. He looked afraid. From somewhere, a feeling that was lot like bitter triumph welled up. If she could make _Superman _feel fear, what couldn't she do? The answer came all-too-swiftly – she couldn't save the man she loved.

"Sorry," she said, not at all meaning it. He nodded, but apparently had caught her true feelings, since the worried expression didn't fade from his face.

"Um... there's a Founders' meeting tonight. There are... things were need to talk about."

"Fine," she said blankly. There was a hurt silence, and she realised that they were shattered, the two of them. They were nothing without the third. One thing she knew for certain, though – Bruce would not have wanted them to break so easily. Her lethargy not to do anything had persisted during the daylight hours since – there was no point in doing _anything_. Now, though, she needed to make an effort. Clark was her best friend, and now she was his.

Under other circumstances, she might have prayed to the gods for strength, but she didn't. Diana had not spoken to any of the gods since _that night._

"Kal," she said quietly, "do you want a cup of coffee?"

He hesitated, but recognised the offer for what it was. "Yes," he said finally. "Thank you."

She led him back upstairs, and made them two cups. Alfred would do the hula before he'd allow freeze-dried coffee in his kitchen, but it wasn't difficult to make filter coffee. She poured them both a cup, and sipped immediately, welcoming the burn in her mouth.

She looked at Clark. He looked like a schoolboy waiting to be called into the principal's office. "So..." How did one start a conversation, anyway? Suddenly she'd totally forgotten. Small talk. She had been reduced to making _small talk _with her best friend in the whole world. "How's Lois?"

"Good," he said, almost too quickly. A long pause. "She's in Tokyo at the moment. Story."

She nodded. Couldn't bring herself to ask what story. As long as it wasn't Bruce, Diana didn't really give a damn. "How's Tim holding up?" Clark asked.

Diana tried for the most accurate answer. "Well. So is Dick." _It's me who isn't holding up at all. _"Busy, obviously."

When Bruce's identity had been disclosed, it wasn't just him who had paid for it. Anyone with any kind of intelligence immediately made the connection between Richard Greyson and Nightwing, Tim Drake and Robin. Tim hadn't gone back to school, and Dick hadn't returned to work in Bludhaven. She knew he wanted to go back – to watch over his city if nothing else, but so far his sense of duty towards Bruce was proving more powerful and he remained in Gotham. For now his two sons had assumed their night-time identities full-time, forcing themselves into a punishing routine. She knew Dick wasn't sleeping much; he'd come home exhausted from patrol but then straightaway go to the Batcave, in the gym for five or six hours at a time. Diana wasn't even sure when – or if – he was sleeping. Tim was punishing himself less vigourously, but several times Diana had walked past his bedroom and heard him sobbing through the door.

Alfred had all but disappeared. She hadn't seen him in two days. The house was still immaculate, the meals were still being prepared, but the Englishman was mysteriously missing from all aspects of daily life – as though he'd suddenly become a ghost.

Clark nodded, then timidly asked, "Any news on Harley Quinn?"

Diana's cup smashed in her hand. Clark flinched as scalding liquid went in all directions. She didn't. Somehow, in the time between the Joker's death and the police going inside, Harley had vanished, and hadn't reappeared since. Diana had no idea where she was, but hopefully she'd realise that what the princess had done was to release her from a crippling, violent relationship. She didn't think so though, somehow. She swore, however, that if the former psychologist showed her face in Gotham again... she'd pay for what she did to Bruce. Maybe marginally less harshly than the Joker, _maybe. _Diana had yet to decide.

"No," she said tightly. Standing up, she grabbed a dishcloth from the sink and began mopping up the spilt coffee.

Clark's hand settled over hers. "Diana."

"Yes?"

"I – You're cold," he said, his tone full of wonderment. "You're never cold."

She looked up at him. "You're mistaken, Kal. I've been cold for two weeks."

His expression changed to something that, if she had to name, she'd have gone with _you're not kidding._ Whatever he was thinking, though, his next actions caused a storm of guilt in Diana. He embraced her tightly. Recognising what he was doing, Diana accepted his offer; she hugged back with all the strength she had in her. No bones cracked. No air was forced from his lungs. No organs were pulped. It was liberating.

She still couldn't cry, though.

They knelt like that on the floor together for a long time; when she next looked up it was dark. Clark shifted, his head tilting as he heard something no one else could. "Sorry, Diana, I have to go."

She nodded. "Alright."

He made to stand, and she clutched his sleeve. "Kal."

"What is it?"

"Stay safe," she implored.

He nodded, kissed her cheek. "I will."

Once he was gone, she headed down to the Cave. As expected, Tim and Dick were already down there, sparring. It helped a little that neither of them looked or moved like Bruce. They'd been trained by him, and trained exceptionally, but both had different styles, different movements.

Diana bypassed them and headed for the weapons room. There were some things in here that Bruce obviously hadn't been ready to put into operation yet, as well as others he used on a regular basis. There were thousands of batarangs, for instance, and more than a hundred grapples. It had been Alfred's suggestion that they make an inventory of what was useable, what was not, what needed destroying, which in-progress projects they might be able to complete. Diana was about halfway through. Because of the nature of what Batman did, it required most of her concentration to look out for things that would and wouldn't explode as soon as she picked them up.

About an hour later, she frowned as she noticed a set of batarangs that looked exactly like the others, but were stored in a separate part of the room. Picking on up somewhat gingerly, she carried it into the main Cave and placed it under the scanner of the computer. A few moments later the results flashed up onscreen. She had been right to be cautious. It had been coated with a thin layer of venom that would paralyse – but not kill – an enemy if the poison got into their bloodstream within ten seconds.

"What is that?" Tim's voice asked, coming from just behind her.

She pointed at the information. "It's designed for enemies larger in bulk than yourself, I'd imag-"

Suddenly she stiffened at a voice sounding in her mind. _Diana?_

Alarmed, she replied straight away. _J'onn. Is everything alright?_

_Yes,_ he sent back quickly. Then there was a pause._ You're late for the Founders meeting._

_Late for... _It was a moment before comprehension crossed her mind. Right. There still existed a world outside of Gotham. She was still a member of the Justice League._ Oh, _she finally replied._ I see. I'll be right up. _She felt J'onn withdraw from her mind, and found Tim looking in concern at her. She offered a weak smile in reassurance. "I have to go," she said quickly, hating the words. She couldn't leave them alone, surely? But still... she did have other responsibilities too. "I have to… Founders' meeting, I..."

Dick only offered a short nod. "Fine," he said calmly.

Diana squeezed Tim's shoulder, who wasn't looking all that reassured in his older brother's confidence. "I'm only a com-link away," she said. "Call me if anything happens. I'll be back soon."

He nodded uncertainly.

Without another word, she transported up to the Watchtower. Upon her arrival, Diana headed straight to the conference room. When she entered, the rest of the Founders were gathered already, looking as though they were trying hard not to notice the gaping hole at the table. Diana wanted to tell them they were all failing miserably. "Sorry I'm late," she said. "It slipped my mind."

Flash nodded. "Yeah. We didn't want to, but..."

"We've left it too long as it is," completed John.

Superman handed around sheaves of paper to everyone; four sheets stapled at the top corner, each with lists of Watchtower components. Diana flicked through hers with a frown. "What's this?"

"A list of maintenance items," Superman answered. "Bits of the Watchtower that need repairing."

"So?" she asked, beginning to feel her irritation turn to anger – she'd been called away from Gotham because of a _maintenance _meeting?! Suddenly Diana was beginning to understand why Bruce had always seemed so irritated by having to attend these gatherings.

"So..." He shrugged helplessly, as if it were painfully obvious. "There's no more money coming in, Diana."

"No more –" Her mouth fell open as she realised just what he was saying. The sheets in her hand crumpled. "No more _money_?!" she demanded, slamming her fist down on the table. It left a sizeable dent, but Diana couldn't have cared less – fury was coursing through her. "We haven't even buried Bruce yet and already you're discussing him as if all he was a _bank balance_!" She stood up, still shouting. "Next you'll be talking about who's to replace him on the Founders' Council!" No one said anything, and the few who had been making eye-contact immediately looked away. Diana's fury turned abruptly to complete shock – there wasn't room for rage. Yet. "Athena's mercy," she whispered, "you actually have, haven't you?"

Clark finally spoke. "Green Arrow's name has come up a few times." He still didn't look directly at her.

She let out an incredulous laugh. "Oh how convenient. We lost one billionaire and oh, look! We found another one!"

"It isn't like that!" he protested, also standing up.

"No?" she asked, no longer smiling. "Then what is it like, Kal?"

"We have no choice, Diana," he muttered, sinking back into his seat and burying his face in one massive hand. "Life... Life goes on. The world goes on," he added.

"No, it doesn't!" she shouted passionately. Suddenly shouting wasn't enough, so she upended the table instead, sending it hurtling into the wall, narrowly missing Shayera. "It stops! It _ends_! Don't you dare for one _second_ imagine that nothing is going to change!"

With that, her voice broke, and she stormed from the room. Before the door shut, though, she heard Flash speak.

"Well... that went well."

She didn't go far – not yet. Though she was still firmly intending to return to Gotham, she couldn't go to Bruce's sons so quickly after being told that the League was... _replacing _him. In order to calm down a little, she picked the corridor, and stood, looking out over the Earth. Clark's words still echoed in her ears. _Life... Life goes on. The world goes on. _

For one second, she found true hatred in her heart for that planet, and for all the people on it. Then she felt J'onn's presence at her back. He put a hand on her shoulder.

"Diana."

She gestured at Earth. "He's right, J'onn. Look at it. It looks exactly the same as it always has. I could be anywhere except Gotham, and it would be exactly the same as it's always been."

"I know," he said lowly. "When was the last time you slept?" he asked, apparently noting the huge dark circles under her eyes and the pallor of her skin.

She shrugged. "I don't know. When I was on Themyscira, I think." She looked down, knowing the reason she hadn't slept in weeks. "I don't want to dream about him," she whispered.

"Why?" he frowned.

"Because then what do I have here, J'onn?" she asked rhetorically. "A world without him – all over again. You know," she said. If anyone could grasp what losing everything felt like...

"Yes," he agreed.

She pressed her palms to the window, not sure who or why she was asking. "Why does it hurt so much?"

His answer was simple. "Because you loved him."

She shook her head. "Because I don't know if he loved me," she corrected.

J'onn turned her to face him. "He did. For weeks his thoughts revolved around you."

She shook her head. "But we never – We were never... We never were," she finished sadly. "I just... I wish I knew how to mourn him." Turning away from her friend, she set off toward the hanger again. Stopped at the doors to the turbo-lift, she said over her shoulder, "Tell Clark he can vote for me."

Once she was gone, J'onn was joined by Superman. "You heard I assume?" the Martian asked him.

Clark nodded. "Yes. I'm worried."

"So am I."

* * *

_She's alone in the world. Her friends are gone. Almost everyone she ever cared about lie dead around her. She's not done, though, not yet. She is Champion of the Amazon people. Her armour is testament to that – it is battered, torn, bloodstained, as is the rest of her. Despite the bruises and cuts on the skin, she has never looked more beautiful. _

_A smoke-laden breeze catches tattered hair, lifts it toward the sky. Her eyes blaze in defiance as she faces down her foe. The shots begin. Diana raises her bracers, deflects as many as she can. It's not enough. Three will get through before Flash, her only living ally, gets there. _

_Three. That's enough._

_One impacts her shoulder, opening up a red laceration, forcing her to take a step back._

_Two enters just below her ribcage, punching a bleeding wound into her skin, and forcing her back once more. _

_Three pierces her skin and goes directly into her heart._

_There is no scream. _

_

* * *

_

**A/N: Review please! **


	10. The Funeral

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews! **

**Chapter Ten - The Funeral**

She deliberately chose not to wear her Amazon garb to the funeral. It somehow didn't… fit. With Superman's ceremonial funeral, it had worked. She'd been honouring a fellow hero then, a teammate. Not now, though. In mourning the man she loved she couldn't be a soldier. She wasn't sure she was one, anymore.

Her mother wasn't pleased. As she had with Superman's funeral, Hippolyta had come to Man's World, apparently under the impression she could be of some comfort to her grieving daughter. She was wrong; if Diana hadn't been on Themyscira, she would have been faster. She might even have been_ in_ Gotham while it was happening, might have been with Bruce when they captured him, might have –

Alfred cut her off gently, putting his hands on her shoulders. He'd reappeared for the day of the funeral, and she hoped he was going to stay once it was over. Without him, she and the boys had been muddling through each day. It felt wrong to cook in Alfred's kitchen, so greasy takeaways had been their staple diet. Wherever the Englishman had been, though, he seemed to have gathered the necessary strength – she knew he was far from fine, but his normal demeanour had resumed.

"There is little point in 'might haves', my dear," he said gently.

Diana shook her head. "'Might have' is all I've got, Alfred." Her mouth tightened, her eyes hardened in anger. "And I _know_ that if she hadn't called me home, I could have saved Bruce."

"She is still your mother."

"No," Diana said bitterly. "She is my _Queen_. She has made _that _abundantly clear."

When she had arrived, and seen the way Diana grieved, Hippolyta had told her that as an Amazon, she shamed her people by not celebrating the life of a warrior, a hero. That while her vengeance had been just and true, she now failed her mother and her gods. It had only been Superman's presence that had kept Hippolyta from being thrown through a wall.

Diana had told her she should return to Themyscira. Hippolyta had refused. "I am still your mother, Diana. I will remain until you are ready to recognise that once more."

Diana had left the room without a word. She didn't know if her mother remained on the Watchtower, or gone to stay in Themyscira's United Nations' embassy in New York.

Alfred looked sadly at her. "She is trying," he said. "Do you really think she did not come as your mother?"

Diana shrugged. She didn't much care what Hippolyta thought of her at the moment.

She _did_ care that the funeral went off without a hitch, however. She knew Commissioner Gordon shared those views – together with she and Dick, they'd come up with a plan that would make a state funeral as safe as possible. It wasn't only Gotham's important figures that were coming – the U.S. President would be there, so they also had the benefit of the Secret Service's resources as well as those of the FBI. They were there ostensibly only to protect the President, but as far as Diana was concerned, the protection of one man was what truly mattered – the one being buried today. The President could be shot a dozen times as long as no one touched Bruce.

She knew Gordon agreed with them. He had every police officer in the city lined along the procession route, all armed to the teeth with either sniper rifles or submachine guns. _Anyone_ who tried _anything_ would be eating lead, courtesy of a still-grieving GCPD.

Diana had approved of Gordon's decision, and ignored Clark's protestations that Bruce would never have allowed that kind of murder in his city – and certainly not in his name. She knew that. The fact remained, though, that Bruce was gone. As far as she could see, he was gone because he was bound by laws that his enemies weren't. She wouldn't risk losing the only vestige of him she had left, and nor would she let the principle '_thou shalt not kill'_ stop her in doing whatever it took to protect his family.

Alfred said nothing to that. She knew he was disappointed, but in what she had no idea. She didn't think it was in her, or Dick or Tim. She had the awful feeling that... he was disappointed in Bruce. She didn't ask, though. She didn't think she could handle hearing those words come from the butler's lips.

Diana took a last sip of her coffee as the kitchen doors opened, admitting Tim. He was dressed much the same as Alfred; in a sombre, dark suit, black silk tie. His eyes were red. "Ready?" she asked softly.

He nodded. "Dick's just coming." He paused. "He's… He's in the ballroom."

They'd carried Bruce up from the Cave three days ago, and laid him in the ballroom. The undertakers would take him into the hearse from there. They weren't taking the chance that they would find out how to access the Cave – yes, the world now knew that Wayne Manor was the home of Batman, but there was a growing call in some parts of Gotham's government for him to be investigated as a criminal, rather than a hero. That meant the Batcave would a crime scene, so its precise location remained a secret. The entrances to the Cave for the Batmobile and Batwing were concealed, and there were only four people alive who knew exactly how to enter through the clock. None of them would divulge it. If anyone tried to extract it from them, though... Just thinking about anyone regarding Bruce as a criminal made her shudder with rage.

The politicians should tread carefully.

* * *

As they marched through the city, Diana didn't look at the people lining the streets. A city of five million people, and all of them were completely silent. Not one shout, one whisper. She wasn't sure if they were even breathing. She wasn't sure she was. She walked behind Dick, Alfred, Tim and Barbara, and next to Clark and Shayera. Shayera was next to John – their hands were clasped tightly together. She kept trying to draw parallels between this and Superman's funeral, but it wasn't working. There were no shadows flitting from rooftop to rooftop. The sadness she'd felt then did not even begin to compare to what she felt now.

As the cathedral came into view, Clark's hand found hers. By the time they got to the church, her hand ached.

Behind the remaining six League Founders, walked Commissioner Gordon and the upper echelons of the city's government and law enforcement. When Babs had chosen to display where she belonged and just how close her connection to Batman was, she knew Gordon had been shocked. Not that she was Batgirl – she had a feeling he already knew that – but that she was displaying her loyalties to everyone in Gotham City.

It didn't take long for the huge cathedral to fill up. Within fifteen minutes the last of the guests were seated; there was a silence, and then the doors groaned open one last time; in the silence it echoed everywhere. Dick checked to see who it was, then stiffened. "What the hell is she doing here?!" he hissed.

They all looked around; to see a pretty brunette come into the church. She moved warily, cautiously, as if expecting attack at any time. She wore a plain black dress, but the fact that it clung to her every curve abolished the need for any other ornamentation.

Dick stood up with a thunderous expression and stormed toward her, coming to a stop inches from her. Tim and Diana weren't far off his heels. "Why the _fuck_ –"

Nightwing cut off as Diana put a palm on his shoulder. He cast a questioning glance at her, apparently not prepared to give up on his tirade entirely. "She has a right to be here, Dick," Diana said quietly.

The woman's green eyes widened in surprise. "Thank you," she said.

"You loved him too," was the simple reply. Simple, but the additional meaning behind it was clear. _You have no claim on him. You are here with our good grace, and you _will _leave this city if our patience with you expires. _

Catwoman only nodded meekly. She took a seat at the back of the church.

* * *

Diana had no idea what John, or Clark, or Jim Gordon said about Bruce. She was only focused on not doing what she wanted to do. She could tell from Tim's white knuckles that he was holding onto her hand with all his strength. Diana couldn't return the gesture without breaking his hand, however much she wanted to. So she focused on that. She focused on finding the balance between offering comfort and safety.

When Dick stood up to speak, Diana almost let go of Tim's hand. He wouldn't let her. She wept then, because she knew that causing him pain was unavoidable now.

"I grew up with a wonderful family. My parents loved me, I never doubted that – but they were taken from in the same cruel way Bruce's parents were taken from him. And maybe that created a bond between us, but through that, I gained another father. And that's all I can really say. There were times when he was a cold-hearted bastard, there were times when I thought he needed me way more than I needed him, there were times when I never wanted to see him again — but he was my father. And right now, I'd give anything in the world to have him back here right now, even if all he'd do is growl and bark at us all."

At her side, Tim's shoulders were quaking. She was sure it was through grief — and not from the fact that as soon as the funeral was over, she'd be taking him to the ER. She looked at her hand wrapped around his, noted how white her own knuckles were while she gripped Tim's hand. She had to have broken at least four bones.

Dick didn't sit down again. He left the cathedral, followed closely by a silently-crying Barbara.

Diana blacked out after that. She'd catch flashes of it in her dreams later – rain splashing into the mud, a red rose on a coffin lid. The names _Thomas _and _Martha _carved in stone. Flinching at the hollow thud the earth made as it was shoveled into the grave. Being hugged by J'onn as he explained he was always here.

She knew he was. It was just that the one she really needed wasn't.

The next thing she remembered clearly was winding a bandage slowly and carefully around Tim's right hand. "I'm so sorry, Tim," she whispered.

"It's alright," he said lowly. "It doesn't really hurt."

She knew that was a lie, and she knew that he'd had worse before. She gave him a shot of Pethedene anyway. It didn't take long for the slightly pinched look to smooth from his features. She put the bandages onto the desk and tied a neat knot in the dressing on his hand. "There."

He nodded and got up. "Thanks, Diana. I'll go see if Alfred needs any help clearing up."

Exactly what Alfred was cleaning up, she didn't know – there hadn't been a wake, but someone hadn't told Alfred that, despite it being a joint decision between all of them. He'd cooked something with almost every ingredient they had in the kitchen. The only problem was that no one was eating.

She packed up the remaining medical supplies and walked over to put them back in the cabinet. On the way back, her eye was caught by something small and white in the huge black of the Cave. Frowning, she walked over to the computer – it was an envelope under the keyboard.

She moved the keyboard – and saw her name. Written in Bruce's handwriting.

She noted with numb pride that her hands weren't shaking as she reached out to pick it up. The envelope wasn't sealed. She wondered if he'd written it that night she'd come to see him. No, that would imply a quick decision, and Bruce didn't – _hadn't_ made quick decisions. So. Was it possible that he'd written this earlier? Before he left for patrol? If… if it was his answer, then she knew what it would say. If it had been a yes then he would have told her himself.

For a moment, holding the still-folded piece of paper in her hand, Diana's heart quailed. Could she see it? In his own words, telling her that she'd lost him without ever having him?

Whatever he'd put down, she needed to see it. She needed to know for certain.

She sat in the chair, in the leather seat that still held the imprint of the way Bruce sat, and opened the letter.

_Diana, _

_If you're reading this, then I'm dead. It was bound to happen sooner or later, and no matter how it's happened, you probably couldn't have stopped it, so please don't blame yourself. Clark will, no doubt, and nothing will stop him, but you shouldn't. There are things you need to understand, things that I haven't gotten around to telling you –  
_

_No. That's not right. Things that I haven't had the courage to tell you. January 2005, the twenty second. That day, you, John and I went on a mission to the past, and then to the future. You don't remember it – the pollution of the timeline saw to that. All you really need to know is that I almost lost you. You faded, right in front of my eyes. Lantern and I fixed it. We got you back, no harm done. But it made me realise something. Two things, actually. The first is that I love you. This is the only time I'll ever allow myself to say it, so to speak. I'm sorry for that. _

_The second thing is that the reasons are impenetrable. I'm not going to change my mind. It's not worth the risk to the team or to you. Still, you deserve my honesty. Don't carry on thinking that we had a chance; we didn't. And that wasn't anything to do with you. This is the truth. I'm not going to sugarcoat it. It's not a case of lack of emotion – God knows that's there. It's a case of logic. And logically, this could never work.  
_

_You're my friend, Diana, I hope that's how you'll remember me – as your friend. But this is a goodbye, after all, and I've said everything I have to say._

_All my love,_

_Bruce. _

For a long moment, Diana only sat there, not crying, not feeling anger bubble up, just feeling… as though she'd died. Perhaps she had. Batman was dead… it seemed fitting that, somehow, Wonder Woman should die with him.

Sliding the letter back into the envelope, she folded it and pushed it down the front of her top. Then she got up from the chair in time to see Dick coming down the stairs. He wasn't trying to hide the tears. They didn't speak, and she only watched as he moved toward the glass cabinet displaying the costumes of the Clan. He opened the door with the code, then knelt and pressed his hand downward to something Diana couldn't see. Then he pulled out from the floor three envelopes, then stood up. He didn't come back to her though, and knowing that he needed the moment to compose himself, Diana turned away, heading up the stairs to where she knew Alfred and Tim would be waiting. This wasn't her place now. This was for the Batclan alone, and she wasn't one of them, not really. She should grieve as Bruce's _friend_, as his colleague, along with the rest of the League. With Kal, Wally, John. She hadn't been Bruce's wife, his lover. She hadn't been family. And there was no regret now. There wasn't anything.

Entering the kitchen, she cleared her throat. "Alfred, Tim, I think I should leave. I don't want to intrude any more than I already have done –"

The Englishman stood up. "I won't hear of it, Miss Diana. Your presence is not an intrusion, believe me; it is a balm."

Tim nodded. "Yeah, Diana." He stood and grasped her hand in his good one, his expression borderline pleading. "Please stay."

Dick's voice sounded from behind her, hoarse with emotion but hiding it well. "You should," he said. They all turned to look at him, and he held up an opened letter. "You're not done yet."

* * *

_She's alone in the world. Her friends are gone. Almost everyone she ever cared about lie dead around her. She's not done, though, not yet. She is Champion of the Amazon people. Her armour is testament to that – it is battered, torn, bloodstained, as is the rest of her. Despite the bruises and cuts on the skin, she has never looked more beautiful._

_A smoke-laden breeze catches tattered hair, lifts it toward the sky. Her eyes blaze in defiance as she faces down her foe. The shots begin. Diana raises her bracers, deflects as many as she can. It's not enough. Three will get through before Flash, her only living ally, gets there._

_Three. That's enough._

_One impacts her shoulder, opening up a red laceration, forcing her to take a step back._

_Two enters just below her ribcage, punching a bleeding wound into her skin, and forcing her back once more._

_Three pierces her skin and goes directly into her heart._

_There is no scream._

_

* * *

_

**A/N: Review please! **


	11. Pack Up The Moon

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews! And thank you to my lovely beta, Angel Queen.**

**Chapter Eleven - Pack Up The Moon**

They gathered around one end of the dining table, Alfred at the head. Dick had so far refused to read the letter, but had now passed it to Alfred. He unfolded the paper and looked at the script. Unlike the letter to Diana, this one had been typed on a computer. This one was without emotion, affection. It had the hallmark of Batman all over it.

Alfred took a deep breath, and began reading.

**In the event of my death and the disclosure of my identity:**

•**Wayne Manor has been split between Nightwing, Robin, Alfred and Wonder Woman. Do what you want with it, but keep it in one piece. **

•**Robin may retire, if he wishes to. Nightwing is under one circumstance only to leave Bludhaven: if Wonder Woman chooses to turn down my request. I am asking her to resume my duties over Gotham.**

Alfred stopped then, and looked up to see three faces staring back at him, open-mouthed. "Hera," Diana said quietly. "He- he wanted me to –?"

Alfred nodded. "It does appear that way."

"Carry on, Alfred," Dick said.

The Englishman looked back at the paper in his hands.

•**Wayne Enterprises will be under investigation, so there will be no new funding for equipment et cetera, and meta powers will now be more applicable to the situation. In addition to this, there is no one, apart from she and Nightwing, I would entrust my city to. Still, it is up to her whether or not she will grant my request. She owes me nothing. **

•**The Batcave should still be safe. There is no way to access it without knowing its precise location. **

The letter went on, detailing what was to happen to the weapons, to the Batmobile and so on. There was a long silence when Alfred finished. Tim broke it.

"So...are you going to do it?" he asked Diana.

She blinked, shocked that he had to ask. "Of course I am! How could I not…?"

"What about you, Tim?" Dick asked.

"No fucking way am I going anywhere," Tim said strongly.

Alfred made a movement that was almost a flinch, but Dick nodded. "Alright." He looked at Diana. "I'll stay here for another week or so, but Batman was right. Bludhaven is being neglected."

"Thank you," she said. She held out a hand to Alfred. "I need the letter. The League Council won't understand unless they see it in his own words."

Alfred folded the letter, slid it back into its envelope and handed it to Diana. She stood, but Alfred held his hand up. "Before you go, Miss Diana. We need to talk about the manor."

She sat down again. "What do you suggest?"

"An... orphanage would seem appropriate."

"Appropriate maybe, but not exactly practical, Alfred," Dick pointed out. "The Batcave for one – what if some kid finds it? What if 'foster parents' are journalists or police undercover?"

"That needn't necessarily be a problem," Diana said. "If we seal off the Cave entrance in the kitchen, then they can't get in that way. Then, if we take the East wing for our use and living quarters, we'll be the only ones with access to the Cave through the study."

"And the journalists?"

"We'll risk it," Tim said, his tone brooking no argument. "Alfred's right. It's the right thing to do."

Dick nodded. "Alright. I'm not convinced, but majority rules, right?"

"Right."

Diana stood again. "I won't be long. I need to call a Founders' meeting."

Tim frowned. "Why? What's this got to do with the League?"

She looked at him. "I have to tell them I'm quitting."

* * *

"_Diana to Superman._"

Clark didn't respond for a moment, surprised. The last time they'd spoken properly had been that disastrous meeting. At the funeral no one said much. Finally he touched his ear. "Go ahead, Diana."

"_I'm calling a Founders' meeting,_" she said.

"When?"

"_Now. Diana out." _

Well, so much for a conversation... He'd only heard Diana's voice go that flat... actually, he'd never heard Diana's voice go that flat. That was emotionless, beyond anything even Bruce had managed to come up with. That was... He wasn't sure that was even Diana anymore.

Leaving the paperwork, Superman got up from his desk and exited his quarters, seeing Shayera do the same further down the hallway. "Hey."

She smiled. "Hello, Clark. Any idea what this about?"

"No," he replied, "but we need to take a vote on...on the..."

"The empty seat?" she completed quietly.

He nodded. They hadn't reached a consensus on who was to replace Batman yet, and in truth they hadn't even discussed it seriously. Plus, Diana's grief-stricken outburst had renewed the guilt they'd all felt at even thinking about it, so there had been no progress made since.

When they entered the room, Diana was already seated, along with the others, and no one was talking. The Man of Steel knew they were all looking at him. He hated it. He'd never _hated _it before.

He cleared his throat, deciding not to look at Diana. "I know none of us want to, but we've left this too long already. All those in favour of promoting Green Arrow to the Founders' Council, say aye."

Six ayes came back, each one carefully neutral. Superman marked it down, with a note to find Oliver Queen as soon as the meeting was over. Then he looked to his left. There were two white pieces of paper in her hands.

"There's one more thing," Diana said quietly. "I'm resigning from the League."

There were exclamations of surprise from all around the room, all of dismay. "What?"

"Diana, no way –"

"You can't just –"

"We need you –"

"Surely you should think about this –"

She held a palm up, waiting for them to stop talking. She wasn't looking at anyone except Clark, begging him to understand. From his expression, it was clear he didn't. He shook his head slowly. "Diana… please. Don't leave." It was unspoken, but they all heard the plea. _Don't leave _me_. Please._

She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Kal. I have to. At the very least, I have to retire as a fulltime member. Gotham needs me."

They all started talking again, and she waited before handing Clark the letter from Bruce. "He wanted me to," she explained. "This way Nightwing can carry on in Bludhaven, Tim can have a normal life, Barbara won't have to worry constantly. From now on, Gotham is my territory. The Manor has been left to Alfred, Dick, Tim and I. We've all discussed it, and it's being converted into an orphanage, apart from one area which we'll live in, so that we have access to the Cave."

They were quiet for a moment as Clark scanned through the letter. He couldn't linger on it too long, and it helped that it was a typed note rather than in Bruce's handwriting. They were the instructions that Batman had left for the defence of his city, not the last words of his best friend. Finally he swallowed and nodded. "She's right. It's quite clear."

"What does Queen Hippolyta say about all of this?" John spoke up, his expression worn and almost defeated.

Diana shrugged indifferently. "I have not spoken with her Majesty since before… before the memorial service." Nor did she particularly care to. Still, she added out loud, "If she wishes that an Amazon be a member of the Justice League, then she may ask for volunteers among her subjects." For all Diana cared, they could hold the trials for a new Champion.

John nodded slowly, but said nothing in reply. Taking a deep breath, Diana took the letter back and nodded to Clark, keeping her eyes on his. "I'm not far away."

"You're not here either," he said. For the first time anyone could remember, Superman left the meeting first.

* * *

Diana left the room next, but didn't go after Clark. There would be no point – he would either understand or he would not. If not, then Gotham was more important than Superman's opinion. She headed to the transporter room and landed in the east end of Gotham. For a moment she stood still, then slowly unfolded the second paper in her hand.

There was a poem written on it. She'd found the open book lying on a coffee table in the study before she went down to the Cave earlier. She wasn't sure which out of the three of the men in the Manor had been reading, but she couldn't imagine anything that summed up how she felt more perfectly.

She'd torn the page out of the book, and was still holding it now. Taking a deep breath, she walked down the street nearest to her, and into the tattoo parlour she found there. She handed the paper to the tattoo artist. "I want the last four lines, on my back."

To his credit, he didn't so much as blink, though he clearly recognized her. "Yes, ma'am."

Before she went back to the Manor, she went to the cemetery. There were still mourners coming, even at this late hour. They'd put a security fence around the Wayne graves – most people would be coming to pay their respects, but it would be folly to believe that there wouldn't be criminals seeking retribution. Diana landed in front of Bruce's headstone, kneeling. There was the red rose that... _someone_... had put there earlier that day. She took the poem, and placed it underneath the rose. It would blur and disintegrate as soon as it rained, but that didn't matter.

"I'll try, Bruce," she whispered, tracing his name. "I promise I won't stop until... Until... I'll try."

Leaving the poem there, she took off once more, heading for the Manor. Once she arrived, she found that Dick and Tim had already left for patrol. Alfred was waiting in the Cave, a cup of coffee already waiting. She drank it quickly. "Thank you, Alfred. I'll change and head out now."

She didn't take long to change, and came out just pulling a black sweater over her vest top. Alfred's sharp eyes did not miss the gauze on her back. "Are you injured?" he asked worriedly.

"What? Oh, no. It'll be fine by now I should think. Alfred, could you –?"

Frowning, he did as she asked, and removed the gauze. He read the lines of poetry on her back. Diana closed her eyes, reading them too. Those words would never fade from her mind.

_The stars are not wanted now; put out every one.  
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun.  
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.  
For nothing now can ever come to any good. _

Alfred said nothing as he removed the last of the covering from her new tattoo, only scrunching the gauze up and turning to go back upstairs.

"Alfred."

The old man turned at the foot of the stairs. "Yes, miss?"

"Can you... can you make me a suit, please?" She shook her head. "I can't... I can't go on being Wonder Woman, not if I'm protecting Gotham. It doesn't... fit."

"Very well, Miss Diana. Are there any specific details you would like me to add?"

There was a pause. "No mask," she said, feeling that her whole personality was a mask now. "And the bat insignia... make it red." _For the blood already spilled._

_

* * *

_

_She's alone in the world. Her friends are gone. Almost everyone she ever cared about lie dead around her. She's not done, though, not yet. She is Champion of the Amazon people. Her armour is testament to that – it is battered, torn, bloodstained, as is the rest of her. Despite the bruises and cuts on the skin, she has never looked more beautiful._

_A smoke-laden breeze catches tattered hair, lifts it toward the sky. Her eyes blaze in defiance as she faces down her foe. The shots begin. Diana raises her bracers, deflects as many as she can. It's not enough. Three will get through before Flash, her only living ally, gets there._

_Three. That's enough._

_One impacts her shoulder, opening up a red laceration, forcing her to take a step back._

_Two enters just below her ribcage, punching a bleeding wound into her skin, and forcing her back once more._

_Three pierces her skin and goes directly into her heart._

_There is no scream._

_

* * *

_

**A/N: A prize to anyone who can tell me where the lines of poetry come from. No cheating by looking on google! Review please! **


	12. The Hunter And The Healer

**A/N: Thank you to my beta, Angel Queen. She's amazing. On a totally unrelated note - we have snow! Like two inches, so naturally the entire country's ground to a complete halt. Enjoy the chapter! **

**Chapter Twelve - The Hunter And The Healer**

Something wasn't right.

Diana stood in front of the mirror, wondering what it was. Alfred had done his job well, there was no doubt about that. She definitely wasn't recognisable as the same woman she had been only a month ago.

There could be no one now who would ever think of her as the same naïve, pure and lofty princess she'd been when she first came to this world. In the suit she felt naked. Its blackness reflected only the terrible darkness she feared now resided in her soul. It fitted perfectly, encased her body in black leather. As requested, it bore no sign of her Amazon heritage save one – her bracers, though they now sat on top of the sleeves, and her hands were covered in gloves made of the same material as the rest of her suit. The bat insignia itself was larger than the one on Bruce's costume, and blood-red.

Diana ran her hands down the suit that now covered from the neck to her ankles. One last thing. Reaching up, she twisted her hair, fastening it into a tight bun and away from her face.

There. All that remained of Wonder Woman was now gone.

There was a knock at the door, followed by Dick's voice. "Are you ready, Diana?"

She opened the door. "Yes."

His eyes took in the new her, and he nodded once. "Good. Let's go."

The effect she had on Gotham's underworld was marked. She had fear now. She had mind-clogging, nerve-paralysing fear. The newcomer everyone now knew. As a member of the Justice League, she had rules. She was bound by international law. She was culpable.

The Batclan operated outside the law. They had no rules. There was no culpability, not now they were without a head to make those rules and a hand to keep them from crossing the line. Every criminal who had emigrated into Gotham immediately turned tail and ran.

However, the ones who had been born and raised there didn't. They'd survived Batman, they thought. How bad could Wonder Woman possibly be?

Tonight it was the turn of the D'Acampi family to find out. They were the fourth biggest crime syndicate in the city, old Mafia crimelords. Their specialty was the drug rings – ecstasy, cannabis, amphetamines, cocaine – all of them were imported into Gotham through the family. They were engaged in the normal Mafia occupations too, like racketeering, prostitution, and extortion. From the files he'd left behind, it had been obvious that Batman had been intending to bring them down. Diana had agreed instantly when Dick had suggested they finish the project.

They'd divided up different segments of the task. Tim had sabotaged the fleet of cars that could be used as an escape once the assault on the D'Acampi compound began. Barbara had disabled the security cameras and lighting, and all of the seventeen massive Rottweiler guard dogs were sleeping peacefully in their kennels - thanks to some spiked steaks and Nightwing.

They'd also coordinated with Commissioner Gordon, and there were cops waiting in plain clothes and cars outside the compound, solid for a mile in every direction. It was the new moon, so the sky was dark. The four of them would storm the compound and flush out the family into the hands of the police. There were holographic devices and smoke bombs in place; everything was meant to amplify their presence and instill fear. The holograms weren't exactly Batman, but they were the echoes of him. The white eyes. The shape of the cowl. The shadow of his build.

Quite honestly, Diana felt as though she would take the shades of him. She could happily lose herself in that darkness. It was why there were no holograms in the main house. It was quite possible that her heart would convince her mind of what wasn't true. Diana's job was to go after Giovanni D'Acampi, the head of the family. He was the most important mark; if they failed at everything else, then capturing him would be a publicity victory. It would show that they could still keep Gotham running without Batman. That it wasn't just for the short-term, city-wide threats. Diana – all of them – were in it for the long haul. But it would be Dick's last mission with them before he went back to Bludhaven. Diana both did and didn't want him to go. He needed Bludhaven, she knew. She wouldn't do what Bruce had done. It was a test for both of them, in a way. Dick needed to go back and be his own Batman, and Diana needed to prove to herself she had the confidence not to keep asking for his help. Gotham was her responsibility now.

She touched her com-link. "All devices in place?"

"_Affirmative,"_ Nightwing said.

"Robin?"

"_They won't get ten feet,"_ Tim's voice assured.

"Well done. Activate." Crouching on the rooftop of the main headquarters, Diana watched the house across from her. At once, all the lights were out. She heard the shocked cries of a few; waited. Any second now...

Then it was the sound of gunfire; a long burst, followed by three of the D'Acampi henchmen, fleeing in apparent terror. It was Diana's cue to burst into the house she sat on, but for a second she didn't move, not until... Batman's silhouette floated past the window she looked into, pursuing the men. The programme tracked anything that moved, she knew that. It was a moment of exquisite pain anyway.

"Batgirl, override the gates." She switched channels to the police band. "Gordon, move in. We're driving them out now."

Acting on her own words, Diana flew in through the window, into Giovanni D'Acampi's office. It was already filled with smoke. At the sound of the window breaking, his two armed guards opened fire. It was simple enough to deflect the few bullets that were heading in the right direction. Unfortunately though, the smoke also had another effect: Diana couldn't see where the bullets that she reflected back were heading. There was a wet sort of thump, followed by a cry of pain as one of them hit one of the men in the office. With the window broken, the smoke was clearing. Diana darted over to the armed guards, grabbing and twisting their guns into ruined balls of metal. One of them aimed a punch at her that was pathetically weak; the princess casually tossed him into his partner. Both of them collapsed to the floor, the bottom one unconscious. She took care of the top one with a kick that broke his nose.

When she turned to D'Acampi, it was to see him writhing in his chair, clutching his leg. She grimaced. The stray bullet had probably nicked his femoral artery. She tore his belt off, tying it tightly around his leg, just above the bleeding wound. Picking him up by his collar, she flew out of the window. Once above the courtyard of the compound, it was easy to see their plan had worked. It was full of fleeing Mafia thugs. Police cars blocked the entrance, and there were GCPD officers making arrests everywhere. She flew down to where she saw Commissioner Gordon talking to Nightwing, dropping D'Acampi at their feet.

"He needs a hospital," she said coldly. "I've tied a tourniquet around his wound, but a stray bullet hit his femoral artery."

Gordon nodded tightly. "Understood. We have the rest of them; the plan worked exactly the way it was supposed to."

"Good, I–"

"Diana," Dick interrupted urgently, "we have to go."

He touched his com-link. "Nightwing to Watchtower. Two for transport to the infirmary."

_Infirmary? _Diana thought, stunned. _No, no, no, no..._

The Gotham night dissolved around them, replaced with the gleaming metal of the Watchtower. They were outside the med-bay, but could see into it easily. When she saw who was lying, pale and motionless, on the gurney with medical staff swarming around him, Diana felt her soul tremble. She was inside within seconds, darting forward to take Tim's limp hand.

"Is he going to be alright?" she demanded of the doctors.

One of them nodded. "He should be, Wonder Woman, as long as we can get him to surgery right away."

Taking the hint and firmly ignoring the foolish little voice inside her wanting to remind everyone that she was no longer Wonder Woman, Diana let go of Tim and stepped back, turning to Dick. "What happened?"

"He got hit by a car," Dick answered quickly, not taking his masked eyes off his younger brother's face. "One of them managed to get hold of a squad car, and…"

"Who was it?" she whispered, intending to transport away from the Watchtower and pound whoever it was into oblivion.

"_The cops have him, Diana_," Batgirl said soothingly in her ear. "_Don't worry,_" she added, the tremble in her voice betraying her own anxiety.

The wait was terrible. Though they rushed Tim into theatre, Diana knew that neither she nor Dick believed he'd be okay. How could he be? The doctors had kept saying words like 'internal bleeding', and 'possible brain haemorrhage'. Those weren't words that ended well. Still, there was a block in her mind when she tried to think about the likely outcome. They'd lost Bruce. There was no way his family could lose Tim.

It didn't seem possible when the surgeon came out of the operating theatre and said that it was all under control. That the internal bleeding had been stopped, there was no bleeding on the brain, and that he didn't even have any broken bones.

"So he'll be okay?" Dick asked anxiously.

"Yes. It'll take a few weeks before he's recovered completely, but yes."

"Can we see him now?" Diana asked.

The doctor nodded. "Go right ahead. He should be regaining consciousness soon."

Sure enough, they were only sat there for a few minutes before Tim stirred, then finally opened his eyes. The doctors had removed his mask during surgery, probably thinking it didn't make any difference. Through a process of default his identity was public information anyway.

Dick managed a wan smile when Tim finally opened his eyes. "Hey, kid."

"Hi…" Tim frowned, wincing at the bright lights of the med-bay. "What happened? I feel like I was hit by a truck…"

"You sort of were," Dick told him.

Diana squeezed his fingers. "You had some internal bleeding, but the doctors were able to stop it. Three of your ribs are cracked, though they aren't broken."

"But we got the D'Acampis?" Tim asked.

"Yeah," Dick assured them. "Gordon has them."

After a few minutes of both of them staring at him, and flinching when he went to pick up some water from his bedside, Tim rolled his eyes. "Stop looking so worried, guys, I'm fine. Soon I'll be good as new."

Diana couldn't argue with that; it was true. Once he had time to heal then he would be alright. But then that led to patrolling again, which led to the possibility of him getting hurt again, worse this time than before. After a little while, she left the two of them in search of something to steady her nerves. Now she understood why Bruce withdrew from his sons so much. They weren't just his family, they were his partners, and they were always going to get hurt. It was inevitable. Approaching that eventuality as a parent must have been too hard to cope with. And no one had been better at compartmentalising better than Bruce, after all.

What was all-too-clear now, though, was that she couldn't do the same.

She found Clark waiting outside. "How is he?" he asked immediately.

"He'll heal." She swallowed. "But it was close, Clark. It was far too close."

He put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "He'll be okay, Diana." He smiled. "He's alive."

"But there'll always be a next time, won't there?" she sighed. Running a hand through her hair, she walked over to the viewing window. "He's a child, Clark. He needs a refuge, not a battleground."

Superman frowned. "Gotham is his home, though."

"Gotham is _dangerous_," she emphasised.

There was a silence as he tried and failed to think of a reason she was wrong. Diana knew she wasn't. It had always been less than safe. But now… Now the criminals seemed to have become aware that Batman had been one man. It wasn't about the fact he was gone anymore; it was the fact that they had allowed fear of him to stop them taking over. In addition, the fear they had for her was rapidly drying up. She wouldn't kill any more of them, and they all knew it. The Joker had been a one-off, a special exception to the otherwise unbreakable rule. So she might have super-strength, and she might be able to fly, and she might have a history of murder – but she was still one woman. And now they all knew how to count.

Finally Clark sighed, and changed the subject. "How are the plans for the orphanage going?"

"Slowly. Like everything else, I guess. We have health and safety offices _crawling _all over the manor, but by the end of the week we'll know what needs to be altered in terms of the structure. Work should start soon after that."

She managed a smile; it was one thing that _was _bringing some cheerfulness into her life now, into all their lives. Alfred, in particular, she knew was looking forward to having some life back in the house again. She wasn't sure it was something Wayne Manor had seen since Bruce had been about six. She had no idea what it would be like full of children, but she couldn't see how it wouldn't be better. She'd take orphanage over mausoleum any day.

"So when will it open?" Clark asked.

"Hopefully in about a month," she answered. "Alfred has begun interviewing staff to look after the children. He's a miracle worker, but even he can't do it alone."

Feeling more cheerful, she smiled at her best friend. "So how are things up here?"

Immediately, Clark's expression turned troubled. She frowned. "Has something happened?"

"No," he said quickly, "or at least nothing…major. I don't know, Diana, it's just a few things, but…"

"What do you mean?"

He gestured. "Come with me, and I'll show you."

Once they entered the monitoring room, Clark sat at one of the computer banks and accessed a file. It contained footage of incidents on Earth from about the last six weeks, she noted, along with smaller files of statistics. "There have been widespread famines across Africa," Superman told her, "with riots in some places, and the UN is spreading itself way too thin trying to distribute food aid. Still, it's not just Africa. The effects are noticeable there because food production has always been low in places like Ethiopia, but farmland all over the world is seeing a drop in production."

"Won't that impact the global economy?" she frowned.

"Yes, and soon. Food will become more expensive, and though we won't see mass famines in the Western world, there will still be protests I'd imagine."

"But what's causing it?" Diana asked.

"This." He kept typing, accessing, of all things, NASA. "No one has any idea why, but the Sun has changed. It's got measurably colder and less bright. That's what's causing the drop in the rate of photosynthesis of all the plants of the Earth. Even the rainforests aren't unaffected. And with carbon dioxide levels the way they are…this can't go on."

"Are you feeling any different?" she asked. "You might have a better idea than NASA about what's going on."

He nodded. "I'm getting tired, really _tired_, like I haven't since I was a kid testing my abilities. I don't feel weaker, though, so that's something at least. But I can't tell _what's _changed, because no one really knows what it is in the Sun that reacts with my DNA."

Diana twisted her mouth, thinking hard. "So it's nothing that NASA can measure? They have no idea what's gone wrong?"

"Not a one," Clark sighed.

"Then perhaps the explanation isn't scientific," she suggested. "It could be magical."

"Magical? Zatanna and Dr. Fate have already looked into that. They found nothing."

"They haven't checked the sources I have access to," the princess pointed out. "Apollo is the god of the sun, and his twin sister, Artemis, is one of my patron goddesses."

Clark nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose it's worth a shot."

A few moments later, Diana stepped into her quarters. The air was musty and stale. She didn't need to wonder how long it had been since she'd come in here. She had a makeshift altar in her room in the manor, but it wasn't as carefully maintained as the one she'd made here. She lit the candles all around the altar and knelt, touching her forehead to the ground.

"Lady Artemis, hear me, I beg you. There is something terribly amiss in the world. The Sun is failing. If something has happened to offend Lord Apollo, your beloved brother, then please, tell me how I may atone for the slight."

The voice was replied was that of a child, and came from her bed. The goddess of the hunt was dressed in a short white chiton, her bow slung around her. She had tears on her cheeks, and was still crying even now. Diana's mouth fell open in shock. "My lady Artemis?"

The girl nodded, childishly wiping at the wetness on her cheeks with the back of her hand. "Oh, Diana."

"My lady, what has happened?"

Artemis reached out to touch Diana's face. "We have both lost those dearest to our hearts, my child. That is what has happened."

Diana blinked, horrified. "_How_? I don't understand."

"My brother is gone. There was a war, Diana. Nemesis blamed your Justice League for taking away her vengeance, for giving too much favour to Themis. Apollo foresaw where her crusade would take her, and tried to stop her, reason with her. But her mother…"

Suddenly the princess found herself with a lapful of sobbing goddess, murmuring words of comfort into divine hair. Nyx. Of course. She knew even Zeus feared to oppose the personification of night. Apollo had, and he was…dead? That would certainly explain what had happened to the Sun, she thought. And worse, there was no way to fix it. Not if the god of the sun was gone. And as with Diana, there was nothing that could help assuage Artemis's grief.

Finally, Artemis drew back, standing. "My apologies, daughter of Themyscira."

"No," the princess said, shaking her head. "Please do not, my lady. I– I of all people understand your feelings."

Artemis frowned. "Yet you have not sought to relieve yourself of this grief. Why is that? If I had your options, I should have done it in a heartbeat–"

"What do you mean?" Diana asked, a shudder striking through her. "My lady, despite everything, despite how much pain I feel, I would suffer his death a thousand times rather than forget him!"

"No, child, you misunderstand me," Artemis soothed, stroking Diana's cheek with a finger. "I mean the Ritual of Panselênê. I am simply surprised you did not attempt it."

"Panselênê?" Diana repeated. "I have never heard of it."

Artemis stilled, her eyes widening in shock. "Your mother…never told you of it?" she whispered.

"No. What is it?"

The goddess of the hunt closed her eyes wearily. "Oh, Hippolyta, you _fool_…"

Desperate for an answer now, Diana leaned forward. "Lady Artemis, please, tell me! What _is_ this ritual?"

"It is too late now, Diana, there is nothing I can do –"

"_Please!_"

Artemis swallowed, suddenly looking nervous. Diana couldn't help but feel the same. "The Ritual of Panselênê requires a sacrifice to both myself and to Selene. It can only be performed at the first full moon."

"The _first _full moon?"

"After a loved one's death," the goddess clarified. "For our most devoted followers, Selene and I have been known to…resurrect that person."

Diana couldn't breathe, though she could hear herself trying. They could have– She could have– And the full moon had been– Voice raw, she finally got a question out. "My mother…she _knew_?"

Artemis nodded. "Yes. Antiope died when she and your mother were children. There was an accident. Because of my and Selene's love for your mother, and because of her execution of the ritual, Antiope was resurrected. We would have done the same for you if you had but completed the ritual as Hippolyta did."

Full understanding of Artemis's prior words hit her. _Hippolyta, you fool…_

_

* * *

_

_She's alone in the world. Her friends are gone. Almost everyone she ever cared about lie dead around her. She's not done, though, not yet. She is Champion of the Amazon people. Her armour is testament to that – it is battered, torn, bloodstained, as is the rest of her. Despite the bruises and cuts on the skin, she has never looked more beautiful._

_A smoke-laden breeze catches tattered hair, lifts it toward the sky. Her eyes blaze in defiance as she faces down her foe. The shots begin. Diana raises her bracers, deflects as many as she can. It's not enough. Three will get through before Flash, her only living ally, gets there._

_Three. That's enough._

_One impacts her shoulder, opening up a red laceration, forcing her to take a step back._

_Two enters just below her ribcage, punching a bleeding wound into her skin, and forcing her back once more._

_Three pierces her skin and goes directly into her heart._

_There is no scream._

**

* * *

A/N: Review please!**


	13. Separation

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews! And massive thanks to Angel Queen, as always :) **

**Chapter Thirteen - Separation**

Since she had heard Artemis's words, the air in Diana's lungs had become acid. It didn't seem possible. Then again, a lot of things that had been impossible before kept happening since Bruce's death.

There was one good thing, though. Since that day, she had been weak. She had been barely existing. She had no energy. Now, though, she was strong. She was so angry that she could have burned the world to the ground and _rejoiced_ over the flames. She was _alive_ — more alive than she ever had been ever before. Strong. Black and white. Only one thing mattered now. The truth.

She went through the Watchtower as a hurricane would. If someone called her name, she didn't hear it. If someone didn't give her the clearance to leave the Watchtower hanger, her jet was armed. She kept one hand on the controls of her jet, the other tightly clutching the seat. She did not wish that she still carried the Lasso of Truth. If she had to, she would beat the truth from Hippolyta's lips.

She landed on the beach on Themyscira. It was the middle of the night; there were no lights in the section of the palace that contained her mother's chambers. In the darkness of her fury, Diana was too blind to see the window or the balcony. Instead she smashed through the wall itself.

Hippolyta was a trained warrior; she was out of her bed by the time the dust settled, knife in hand. Diana had stopped long enough for her vision to give her a clear target, and then she flew forward, wrapping her hand around the queen's neck.

"Is it true?"

"Is what…" Hippolyta choked. Her eyes widened when she they finally saw her attacker. "_Diana…_"

Her fingers tightened. "Is it _true_?!"

It took her almost a minute to realise that Hippolyta could no longer breathe, and to let go. The queen slumped against the wall, struggling to catch her breath. Diana watched with blazing eyes. Her voice trembled. "Did you know about the ritual? Is the goddess of the hunt telling me the truth? Which one of the females I have _worshipped _since I was a child is lying to me?!"

Finally Hippolyta answered. "I did not lie."

There had always been three parts to Diana. The little girl wanted to fall to her knees and sob. The Amazon wanted to believe that her queen had a good reason for her deception. However, the woman who loved was the only one that mattered now. The woman who had lost and avenged Batman. The woman who had her trust betrayed by the one person meant never to lie to her. The other two parts had been silenced, possibly for good.

Diana's fingers moved reflexively, grabbing Hippolyta's neck once more, ready to squeeze the life out of her mother. Then the door burst inward, and six of her mother's personal guard burst in, wielding sword and spear alike. All of them were pointing at Diana; Antiope threw her spear without stopping to see who it was threatening her queen.

Diana flung an arm out; the spear hit her bracer and bounced off, hitting the floor about ten feet away with a clattering thud. The half-dozen Amazons stared, stunned, before Philipus forced herself to speak.

"P-Princess, what are you _doing_?"

Suddenly Diana wasn't sure. Fury still coursed, hot as lava, through her veins, but she could no longer move. She could not crush Hippolyta's neck the way half of her still wanted to – the other half was now insisting that this was _Mama_; she couldn't kill her. That voice was also cold, though. It was telling her that she _shouldn't_. Not that she did not have the heart to.

She dropped the queen and let her crumple to the floor. Antiope pulled her monarch to her feet, still staring at Diana, as all the others were. The princess let her arms fall to her sides, clenching her fists because it was the safest thing to do.

"_Why_?"

Breathing hard, Hippolyta straightened. "Because the gods chose him for death–"

"Lady Artemis told me she and Lady Selene would have resurrected him if I'd performed the ritual!" Diana yelled. "How _dare _you take that decision for me, _especially_," she spat, pointing accusingly in the direction of the horrified Antiope, "after you yourself performed it to restore your favorite sister to life! Do you have any idea the _hell_ you have condemned me, his family, the _world_ to without him? You _stole _him from me as surely as the Joker did!" The Joker's fate went unspoken, but was a faint presence in the back of Diana's mind, as well as the frigid voice that still kept saying that she _shouldn't_ see to it that the queen shared the madman's fate.

"My concern was all for you!" Hippolyta replied, her voice passionate and pleading. "Diana, he was only a mortal man! To bring him back only for you to lose him again – you would never have returned to us!"

"You had no right to–"

"I am your _queen_, daughter," Hippolyta cut her off firmly, her eyes blazing in the dim light of the torches. "I had _every_ right! You are still an Amazon, Diana! You are still subject to my rule!"

Something in Diana crystallised. "In that case…" she said distantly, "I…no longer wish to be an Amazon, _Your Majesty_." The contempt in her tone caused Philipus and Antiope to gasp sharply.

The queen, however, did not seem to hear it, or comprehend her words. "What?" Hippolyta asked stupidly.

"If being an Amazon, if being welcomed on this island, if being close to my sisters means I must spend one more _second _of my life following the path _you _pushed me to without my consent…then I am an Amazon no longer."

With seven Amazons staring at her, Diana crossed to the gaping hole in the wall. She took to the air, but stopped in the gap. She spoke to the air, not giving Hippolyta the courtesy of meeting her gaze. Her words were soft, but they echoed as harshly as lashes upon unprotected skin. "You should hold the contests, Mother. Find yourself a new champion. I'll have someone from the Justice League drop off the uniform once I've had a chance to cleanse it of the blood of the man I loved. Perhaps it will give you a chance to do the same with your hands."

Diana flew away from the battered palace, singularly intent on returning to her jet. The Queen of the Amazons and her seven sisters stood in the rubble that had once been the queen's chambers, utterly shell-shocked by the scene they had all just played a part in.

None of them saw the childlike goddess standing in the shadows, weeping silent tears. _Hippolyta, you fool…_

None of them felt the presence of another deity, this one smirking in delight. His opening had come, and soon he would make his move.

* * *

Diana was true to her word. She submerged the uniform in bleach overnight. The cloth was magically protected, so no harm came to the colors or other ornaments. Once the last vestiges of blood – and Bruce – had been washed down into the drains, she covered the uniform with its plastic sheeting once again and ordered a transport up to the Watchtower.

Shayera seemed surprised when Diana knocked on her door, but welcomed her in with a smile anyway. "Come in, come in."

"I'm sorry to bother you, Shayera, but I need a favour. I need you to take this to Themyscira for me. Return it to the Temple of Hera."

Shayera took the uniform with a frown. "Can't you? I mean, I know you've got Gotham to worry about and everything, but have you even seen your mother once since the funeral?"

"Yes," Diana replied flatly. "I returned there three days ago, _after_ I discovered from Lady Artemis that my mother prevented me from taking the only chance I will ever have to bring Bruce back. That's why I need you to take the uniform back. It's for an Amazon to wear."

"And what, that's… That's no longer you?" the Thanagarian asked, her green eyes wide.

"That's no longer me," Diana affirmed.

Shayera put the uniform down and took Diana's hands. "Diana, what are you _doing_? You can't keep tying so much of yourself to Gotham – to Bruce!"

"Bruce is _dead_, Shayera–"

"Yes, he is," she agreed, interrupting. "And Gotham needed someone. You stepped in to fill that void, but that doesn't mean remove your own identity in the process!"

"I'm not–"

"Diana, you just stated that you're no longer an Amazon! Are you even aware of how _massive _a statement that is?" Shayera demanded incredulously. "When you first came here, all you were was an Amazon! All you knew was the code and being better than men and–"

"There you go then. I'm growing, that's all."

"This isn't _growth_, Diana, it's regression! You're polarising yourself, splitting the world into black and white and it isn't!"

"Not yet it's not!" Diana snarled, her fists clenching.

Shayera stared at her, seemed to almost read Diana's mind, then grabbed the princess's upper arm and dragged her out of the room and down to the monitor room. J'onn was the only one in there, and neither woman bothered with greetings. Shayera shoved Diana into the spare seat in the room and brought up old stock footage from the archives of the old League, when it had just been the Seven. It wasn't hard to recognise. The Justice Lords.

Shayera paused it at a very strategic point. The video had been taken from Batman's cowl. Justice Lord Diana was about to drop a lump of concrete on him, crushing his ribs and pulping several vital organs. Her eyes were harsh, like diamonds, and clearly had no problem with attempting to kill the counterpart of her comrade.

Shayera turned away from the frozen picture on the screen and looked at Diana, her arms folded. "Do you want to be that woman?"

"Shayera, this is totally irrelevant–"

"Answer the question, Diana."

"Of course not, but that's not going to happen."

"It is if you keep heading down this way," Shayera assured her. "How long before you lose everything that makes you you, Diana?"

"I know myself," the princess said, rapidly losing patience. "I am not going to force the world into my view! But make no mistake – my mother betrayed me, and I do not take betrayal lightly. I'd have thought you'd remember that."

Before Shayera could pick her jaw off the floor or conceal the expression of pain that crossed her face, Diana stood and flew down to the transporter pads. "Transport me to–"

_That was unfair, Diana_.

She looked up to where J'onn was looking down at her. _It's true. Mother– J'onn, she– I could have gotten Bruce back, he could be _here _again– _

_I know what Queen Hippolyta took from you, _he told her, _but Shayera is not your mother. She has done nothing to earn your anger._

Diana sighed. _I know. I'll go apologise. _

_Thank you._

Shayera opened the door trying to conceal the tears swimming in her emerald eyes. Diana felt immediately guilty, and pulled her sister-in-arms – her only sister now – into a hug. "I'm sorry, Shayera. I didn't mean to hurt you, I simply spoke out of anger."

"Yeah," the Thanagarian replied, her voice rough and shaky, "I got that."

Diana let her go. "But my mother…I cannot forgive her, Shayera. And I need you to understand that."

The other woman nodded. "I do understand that. If it had been John…" Apparently recognising the futility of finishing that sentence, Shayera shut her mouth and looked away. "There was something I wanted to ask you, actually."

"What?"

"John and I, we decided not to put the wedding off anymore. It's been almost four months, and we…" She cleared her throat. "Anyway, I just wanted to ask you if you'd still be my maid of honour. If you don't want to then I'll understand–"

"Shayera, I _do_ still want to, but I can't leave Gotham."

"It's for one day, Diana, please, one day more than a month from now. You can teleport back at any time, be there in ten seconds if necessary. I'm sure Robin, Batgirl could cover for you–" She stopped, looking pleadingly up at her friend. "Please."

She sighed. "Fine. Of course, Shayera, I'll be your Maid of Honour. I'm sure Gotham will be fine without me for one day."

* * *

Gotham was fine without her for one day.

But that was only because the beatings intended for it were being taken out on Tim. With Diana (called from the wedding early after all) hauling Killer Croc away to Arkham, Nightwing and Batgirl had finally been able to get Tim to the Watchtower.

Almost none of the buildings in the city were damaged – but one of Tim's legs was broken, as were the ribs that had been previously cracked. There were deep and multiple lacerations across his torso, both front and back, and he'd lost at least two pints of his blood. The only other person she'd seen look that utterly white was… was Bruce.

Tim wasn't dead, but this was the second time in less than two months he'd been seriously injured. From this point on, it was only a matter of time, as she pointed out to Dick and Barbara.

Batgirl bit her lip, but didn't disagree. Dick did more than not disagree. He nodded. "It's Alfred's decision too."

"Alfred will agree with us," Barbara pointed out. "He couldn't stand losing Tim."

"Where?" Dick asked. "He'll come back. We could send him to _Timbuktu _and without someone keeping him there, he'll always find his way back to Gotham. By swimming if he has to."

"So we need someplace remote," Barbara started slowly, "and we need somewhere supervised."

They all looked up as Superman entered the commissary. "He's regaining consciousness, guys."

All three of them came to the same conclusion at once.

It was not a conclusion that Tim was happy with. Nor was he happy with their explanation.

"It's not safe anymore, Tim," Barbara tried to reason with him.

"So you're sending me to the town that rears super-powered Boy Scouts?!" Tim retorted.

"Yes," Diana said flatly. "You're going to Smallville where Superman and his family can keep an eye on you, where you'll _be safe_." Her voice softened. "I know you hate it, Tim, but if you stay in Gotham you'll never be able to be Tim Drake again."

"Who _cares_?" he spat. "It's not stopping you or Dick! I have the right to decide for myself."

Dick shook his head. "No, you don't. Sorry, Tim. But Alfred and I are your legal guardians 'til you're eighteen. You don't have a say in this."

"This is total bullshit!" Tim shouted.

There was nothing else they could say that would persuade him, and no protest of Tim's could sway them.

The next week, the parting was bitter, and Tim didn't look back or say goodbye as he got in the car. Alfred would be going with him to Kansas to make sure he settled before coming back to Gotham. "We… We're doing the right thing," Dick said. His voice sounded unsure, and Diana could only offer reassurance.

"We are," she said. "It's safer for him."

He nodded. "I know. But... it just feels..."

He didn't continue, but he didn't have to. She knew what he meant. _It feels like the family has fallen apart. _She didn't try to reassure him this time. He was right. They were breaking up. Just like Diana had broken from the League, from the Amazons, so too was the Bat family.

Diana was the first to turn back to the very empty yet full manor. The orphanage had opened last week, and it had never been noisier. There were children everywhere – they had the biggest family in Gotham now. It was all a lie, though. No matter how many of them there were, no matter how much money had been spent on the orphanage, or would be spent on toys, and education – it was all a lie. A façade.

No matter how much they'd made the manor a sanctuary...it was still a mausoleum, Diana thought.

_How could you leave us, Bruce? We still needed you. _

* * *

_She's alone in the world. Her friends are gone. Almost everyone she ever cared about lie dead around her. She's not done, though, not yet. She is Champion of the Amazon people. Her armour is testament to that – it is battered, torn, bloodstained, as is the rest of her. Despite the bruises and cuts on the skin, she has never looked more beautiful._

_A smoke-laden breeze catches tattered hair, lifts it toward the sky. Her eyes blaze in defiance as she faces down her foe. The shots begin. Diana raises her bracers, deflects as many as she can. It's not enough. Three will get through before Flash, her only living ally, gets there._

_Three. That's enough._

_One impacts her shoulder, opening up a red laceration, forcing her to take a step back._

_Two enters just below her ribcage, punching a bleeding wound into her skin, and forcing her back once more._

_Three pierces her skin and goes directly into her heart._

_There is no scream._

* * *

**A/N: Review please!**


	14. Houston, We Have A Problem

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews! And thank you too to my wonderful and amazing beta, Angel Queen :) **

**Chapter Fourteen—Houston, We Have A Problem **

Diana was getting used to having a constant stream of noise hissing away in her ear, and it was easier to distinguish between useless and important information now that it had been. She suspected it was how Superman felt all of the time. Justice League transmissions still came over her com-link, but she was tuned into the GCPD frequencies as well, constantly monitoring Gotham, with Barbara doing the same from the Batcave. Dick had resumed his nightly vigil over Blüdhaven a few weeks ago, and so far things had gone smoothly, tonight being no exception. She'd prevented an armed robbery, two rapes (both perpetrators were now lacking right hands) and about half a dozen muggings. It seemed like they were going to be able to live without both Batman _and_ Robin. Survive anyway.

Dawn was beginning to peep over the edge of the eastern horizon when the Bat-signal went up, lancing into the cloudless sky. Diana flew over directly, but didn't find Commissioner Gordon waiting for her. Instead she found a woman, dressed just as she was in skin-tight black, though lacking the symbol on her chest.

"I thought we made it clear you were to leave."

Catwoman shrugged elegantly. "You did—but I have some information I thought you might be interested in."

"What?"

"We're supposed to have a bit of banter before I tell you," Selina informed her. "Used to be flirty, but I guess we'll stick to friendly with you."

"I haven't broken your legs yet, I'm being friendly," Diana growled.

Catwoman looked at her almost sympathetically. "The last few months haven't been kind to you, have they? Of course, that's obvious from the state of your hair."

Diana took one step forward.

"Okay, okay! I know where Harley Quinn is."

A spike of pain and rage shot through Diana's heart at the name. The former Dr. Quinzel had disappeared immediately after Bruce's death, and hadn't been seen in Gotham or anywhere else since. Not even the League had been able to find her. Of course, if Diana had been the one to find her, she would have been delivered almost immediately to the ICU of Gotham General. "Where?"

"Blüdhaven. We met a few days ago in a bar—she let slip that was where she was going. Another one who's a complete mess, by the way."

"Why is she going to Blüdhaven?"

"To do the same thing you did," Selina told her. "To avenge the man she loved."

"I'm in Gotham," Diana replied, narrowing her eyes. "Her going to Blüdhaven makes no sense."

"Actually it makes perfect sense. Think about it; she knows she stands no chance against you. Not head on. So…"

"So?"

"Oh for– You might have Batman beaten in the brawn stakes, but you've got nothing on his brain, have you? She's going to Blüdhaven because someone she _does_ stand a chance at killing is there. By himself."

Diana's blood ran cold. "Nightwing?"

"Bingo."

Selina seemed startled when Diana ran at her, and even more so when she dove off the building, suspending her only by one hand. The other was at her com-link. "Batgirl, contact Nightwing immediately. Tell him Harley Quinn is in Blüdhaven, and is looking to take her revenge out on him. He won't underestimate her, but–"

"–_but she has the element of surprise,"_ Barbara completed. _"Yeah. You're on your way?"_

"I am. Just have to make one stop first."

"_Understood. I'll brief Nightwing of the danger and tell him to expect you within half an hour."_

"Thank you. Diana out."

Selina had wisely stopped struggling, seeing how she was still poised about two hundred feet above the ground. Diana spoke to her. "I'm not going to drop you, don't worry."

"Who was worried?" came the faint reply. Diana smirked just a little. At least the other woman hadn't screamed, like most people would when faced with such a view of Gotham.

A few moments later, Diana spotted what she was looking for; a very particular police car patrolling the east end. She landed in the road about fifty feet in front of it, giving it plenty of time to brake. She'd shifted her grip on Catwoman to her shoulders, but hadn't let go of her yet either. When the car stopped, Renee Montoya got out, one hand on her gun.

Diana pushed Selina forward. "Lieutenant."

"Ma'am."

"Could you see that Miss Kyle here is taken to the airport, and that she buys a one-way ticket out of the country?"

"Hey, I just gave you information."

"That's why it's not a one-way ticket to Arkham," Diana told her. "Montoya?"

"We'll take her to the airport," the woman nodded, "if Commissioner Gordon agrees."

"Thank you. And Selina?"

"What?"

Diana regarded her seriously, and kept her voice flat and final. "Don't come back."

She was about halfway to Blüdhaven when Batgirl's voice came back over the com-link, her tone not panicked, but bubbling with tension. _"Diana, I can't get through to Nightwing. He's not answering my hails, and his locator beacon has been stationary for the past twenty minutes."_

Diana's blood did not run cold, or stop. But a deep feeling of dread settled into her bones almost immediately. She felt incredibly heavy suddenly, and wasn't sure if she was about to fall out of the air. Was it hopeless, she wondered? Was it all…hopeless?

"_Diana? Did you hear me?"_

"I heard you," she confirmed. "Send me the coordinates and I'll be there as soon as I can."

She forced herself to think clearly. There was nothing to say that Catwoman was right, and even if she was – the Joker had taken Bruce. She would be damned if she let his bitch take Bruce's son.

The coordinates did nothing to calm her nerves though – they were for the Blüdhaven industrial area. Seemed Harley had a sense of justice, twisted though it was. Arriving, she took a thermal imaging scanner out of her belt, looking through the roof of corrugated metal to see the life-forms in the building below her. There were seven. Two were clearly human. The other five, not so. Animals of some kind perhaps, though she couldn't tell what kind. They were surrounding one of the human figures. She put the scanner back, was debating where to enter when there was a howl of pain only barely recognisable as human.

She smashed through the roof.

The animals turned out to be hyenas.

The person they surrounded, Dick. It was he who had screamed, and the reason for it was easy and horrifying to see. The creatures were eating him alive. Four of them were at his legs, while the other had his left hand in its jaws. There was no time to think of not causing him more pain — if she didn't act then he'd be dead, through blood-loss if nothing else. Swooping down, she grabbed his right arm, and pulled him upward.

More screaming.

She looked down; cursed. One of the beasts hadn't let go. She kicked out, her foot connecting with the thing's skull. It let out a loud yelp, and fell the twenty feet to the warehouse floor. Once it was off of Nightwing, she adjusted her hold on him, lifting him into her arms properly. There was blood everywhere, soaked into the fabric of his costume and literally dripping from the dog-meat his legs had been reduced to. He was on the verge of unconsciousness, and trembling all over.

"I'll tell…Bruce…hi…"

"Don't you dare," she ordered. "Don't you _dare,_ Dick. Batgirl, where's the nearest hospital?"

"Two clicks to the north-west — how bad is he?"

"Get here as soon as you can," Diana told her. She cut communication after that, flying as fast as she possibly could. It was still a three-minute journey, and she had to stop herself coming through the roof of the ER. When she ran into the department though, the doctors hesitated only a few seconds before flocking to her, relieving her of Nightwing's prone form. She wanted to stay at his side, but there was no opportunity for that to happen, since there was literally no space that wasn't filled by a doctor or a nurse. Instead she was forced to stand outside, looking through the swinging door at the mass of people and machinery they hooked the young man up to. She watched at least five bags of blood be pumped into him…only to spill right out again onto the floor.

"Diana!"

She whirled; caught Barbara before she managed to burst into the room. "Stop, you have to let them work."

"What's happening? What happened?" the redhead demanded tearfully. The younger woman had kept her self-control all night, but now she seemed to have thrown it out the window.

"There were… hyenas. He has major bite wounds on his legs, one arm and I think there was one on his side as well, I didn't take the time to look properly. Harley's revenge. But…they looked bad, Barbara, I don't know…"

"Don't say it. What about Harley? Did you get her?"

Diana shook her hand and balled her fists. "Dick was my priority."

They watched in mutual fear and hope while the minutes passed and the movements of the doctors became less and less frantic. Finally a small, black-haired woman came out, pulling off her plastic apron.

"He's not going to die," she said quickly. "But he needs emergency surgery immediately."

"Surgery for what?"

"We were able to save his life," the doctor said sadly. "But we can't save his legs. They both need amputating. They're taking him up to theatre now – one of you can go with him."

"You go," Diana said immediately to Barbara, who had blanched. Diana didn't care – or less than she meant to, anyway. Dick was alive. He would stay alive, that was what mattered. Her priority now was exacting revenge for the fact that he would never walk again.

* * *

"_Superman?" _

Clark touched his com-link. "Go ahead."

"_There's a secure transmission for you. Line four. Seems…important,"_ Mr Terrific told him.

"Alright, I'll take it in my quarters. Thank you, Mr. Terrific."

Once arriving at his private quarters, Superman activated the video-screen mounted on his wall, expecting to see one of his colleagues, Commissioner Henderson or maybe a politician. What he didn't expect was the former head of Cadmus. Not allowing his surprise and curiosity to show on his face, Superman folded his arms and nodded in greeting. "Mrs Waller."

"We have a problem," she said bluntly.

"We? Not often we're a 'we' with Cadmus," he remarked.

"This is a problem of global security – I need a piece of intelligence you have."

"Which is?"

"The location of his body."

"Whose body?"

She glared. "Batman's. What other body would I give a rat's ass about?"

Superman stared in horror. "What? It's in his grave!"

"No, Superman," she said flatly. "Believe me, it's not. We've checked."

"You desecrated his grave?" he roared, not caring if someone outside of his quarters actually heard him right now.

"No," she denied, "someone else did that long before we got there."

The room spun sickeningly. This couldn't be happening. It was impossible. Who would– Who could– Someone had stolen his _body_? "Who?" he growled out, silently contemplating on ways he could make the culprits suffer.

"I've no idea," Waller answered. "I'd hoped you'd somehow have moved him without anyone noticing."

He shook his head, still feeling dizzy. "No."

"Then we both have a problem. Well, you more than me," she added.

"How so?" he asked hoarsely.

"You're the one who has to deal with the princess when she gets wind of it."

_Oh God, Diana…_ There could be no limit to her rage when she found out about this. She would literally tear the whole world apart to find him. And when she had those responsible for taking him – she'd tear _them_ limb from limb. There wouldn't even be enough left for anyone to bury. "Shit."

When he looked back up at Waller, her expression had softened a tiny bit. "Obviously, we need to speak face to face," she said.

He nodded. "Neutral location?"

"Old Faithful, Yellowstone. 0500."

"Agreed."

"Waller out."

She disappeared, leaving Clark to his shock and grief. _No more._ Please, _no more._ Every time he thought this couldn't get any worse, it did. First Tim relocating to Smallville – the kid still barely said anything to anyone these days, just stewed in his own anger and misery – and now _this_… How could Bruce just be gone? And _why_ was his body gone, what could anyone _possibly_ want with it? And for that matter, what on Earth did Waller want it for? He made a mental note to ask her. God, this was like a bad dream.

He picked up the phone and dialed home, not wanting to wake Lois but _needing_ to hear her voice. She answered groggily after about half a dozen rings. _"Hello?"_

"Hi, honey."

"_Hey,"_ she said, a warm sleepy smile in her voice. _"What time is it?"_

"Just after four. Sorry to wake you, but something's…something's come up. I'm going to be late coming home."

"_Oh, okay. Do you have to be? Miss you." _

He smiled even though there was a massive knot in his throat. "Yeah. It…it's big."

"_Clark, are you alright?" _

"Not really," he whispered. "I'll tell you about it later. I love you."

"_I love you too."_

"Bye."

"_Bye."_

* * *

Harley hadn't moved.

She was still sat there, where she had been before, with her hyenas – all except the one Diana had killed, which lay some metres away, clearly with a broken neck. When she landed, the four animals circled toward her, cackling. She waited until one of them leapt for her. She caught and then threw it into the far wall. A kick, a punch, another broken neck took out the others.

When she looked back at Harley, the blonde had an Uzi in her hands. She opened fire. Diana didn't break stride, and moved through the hailstorm of bullets, untouched. She snatched and crushed the gun once close enough. Harley let out a sob, and then punched her.

Diana broke her wrist.

Harley carried on crying and screaming.

"You killed him! You killed him, you killed him, you killed him!"

Diana wrapped her hand around Harley's neck, lifted her into the air. "And you killed _him_."

A strangled laugh. "So now what…huh?"

"Now you die."

It was a simple twenty-minute flight back to Gotham. Once Diana spotted the gridwork of lights and cages that marked the city's zoo, she placed Harley gently down in the outside enclosure of one of the big cats.

"T-thought you were going to kill me?" she giggled. Her eyes were vacant, yet still had a crazed, hysterical glint in them.

Diana moved to the wall of the low concrete building inside the cage walls. "I am. I just wondered if your love for hyenas extended to all African wildlife."

With that, she opened the metal door that separated the two of them from the lions.

* * *

Waller was waiting for Clark as he landed, camera in hand as if she was there for the tourism. "Superman," she nodded as he landed.

"Waller."

They both tried to speak at the same time, identical angry-toned demands. After glaring at one another for a moment, Clark waved one hand. "Alright, one question at a time. Why did you dig him up – or try to?"

"Needed his DNA," she answered crisply.

Clark gaped. "What–"

"My turn: how do I know you're not lying to me?"

"Do you really believe I wouldn't bury my best friend next to his parents?" he snapped. She seemed to believe that; her eyes softened even if her expression didn't. "Why would you need his DNA?"

"To either clone him or make genetic children capable of being Batman. We need him."

"_We_?" he questioned.

"The world. You we could do without. Him we need."

Clark snarled. "Yes, the fact that he's _dead_ seems to be causing so much inconvenience for everybody." He sighed. "Why wait so long? He's been dead almost six months, surely any viable material would have…decomposed by now."

Waller shrugged. "No choice. The president had serious qualms about digging up a national hero. And we had to do it once we stood no chance of being interrupted by anyone."

"Like Diana," he guessed.

She nodded. "_Especially_ her. Don't tell her he's gone. Things are changing in that city, why?"

"Diana's suffering," Clark answered with a sad shrug. "Okay, what do you mean, he's 'gone'? If you've been watching the grave for the last six months – which I assume you have – then wouldn't you have seen someone dig him up?"

"Yes. And he hadn't been dug up until we got there. Our dendrologist confirmed that. As far as we can tell, he was never in that coffin in the first place."

Superman folded his arms. "I watched him being put into it."

"Do you know of anyone who would want his body?"

"If it was one of his enemies they would have displayed it, taunted us with it."

"So ally then."

"But no one who knew him would really do it." Diana's name hung between them for a moment, despite his protestation. She would do it, if she could, if she thought there was even the slightest chance of getting a shadow of Bruce back. But equally, neither of them thought she had done it.

Clark elaborated. "Bruce distrusted magic at the best of times, and a Lazarus pit would be completely out of the question. Ra's al Ghul maybe, but he's been presumed dead for several years, and if he wasn't, then without Batman the world would have ended by now. His daughter Talia hasn't been seen either for quite a while." Which was probably just as well, he knew. Diana barely endured dealing with Selina Kyle at Bruce's funeral. He didn't think she'd put up with Talia al Ghul, not now.

Not ever.

Waller let out a sigh, the first sign of human weariness he had seen from her. "Then we're both out of leads."

"So he's just…?"

"Gone. Shit."

"I won't tell Diana. Or any of the others." The League was fragile enough right now. This would only make it worse.

She nodded shortly. "And if there are any stories in the press, they'll be suppressed."

"Thank you."

He took to the air, getting about fifteen feet up before Waller called him again. "Superman. Find him. Find him quickly."

_

* * *

_

_She's alone in the world. Her friends are gone. Almost everyone she ever cared about lie dead around her. She's not done, though, not yet. She is Guardian of Gotham City. Her black suit is testament to that – it is battered, torn, bloodstained, as is the rest of her. Despite the bruises and cuts on the skin, she has never looked more beautiful._

_A smoke-laden breeze catches tattered hair, lifts it toward the sky. Her eyes blaze in defiance as she faces down her foe. The shots begin. Diana raises her bracers, deflects as many as she can. It's not enough. Three will get through before Flash, her only living ally, gets there._

_Three. That's enough._

_One impacts her shoulder, opening up a red laceration, forcing her to take a step back._

_Two enters just below her ribcage, punching a bleeding wound into her skin, and forcing her back once more._

_Three pierces her skin and goes directly into her heart._

_There is no scream._

_

* * *

_

**A/N: Review please!**


	15. Barbarians

** A/N: Hey people! I got a chapter out! That is down to two people: jlapj for the inspiration and Angel Queen for the beta. In this chapter is one of my favourite lines from one River Song, if any of you are Who fans - see what if you can spot it! Enjoy!**

**Chapter Fifteen - Barbarians**

Gordon didn't like it when the Bat signal turned itself on. It had only happened three times in his time as Commissioner, and each time, it was because Armageddon was nigh. Generally, Batman was there to stop it, and the Bat signal had been a warning, a courtesy call to tell him to start calling FEMA – or to at least get his family out before everything went to hell.

Somehow, he doubted that Diana had done it for the same reasons. Gordon had spent the entire morning down at Gotham Zoo, in the tiger enclosure with the forensic teams who were trying to make some kind of sense from the mess of blood, occasional viscera and fragments of bone that the tiger had left. Said big cats were now tranquillised and sleeping peacefully in their cages. It was undecided whether or not the animals would be put down at a later date. After all, behind their bars they had never represented a threat to anyone. It was just because someone had…wandered in that was the problem.

That was a problem for the Department of Animal Control and the zoo keepers to deal with; Gordon's problem was standing on top of Police Headquarters. Tonight he felt every one of his sixty-two years. Normally able to climb to the top of the building without a problem, he had to stop at the top and pause before he opened the door to the roof. His heart was hammering, and it had nothing to do with the climb.

Diana was waiting, perfectly calm, when he stepped out. "Good evening, Commissioner."

Gordon stared at her. "No point in interviewing you, I guess?"

"No. I'll confess quite freely."

"Alright. Why?"

"The oldest of reasons."

"Love? Or revenge."

"Both."

He rubbed his forehead, sighed. "You realise you can't just _do _that, Princess."

"I'm afraid you and I come from different worlds, Gordon. Justice is very black and white in my culture."

"Well this _isn't _your culture," he snapped. "If you'll excuse me for saying this, our laws might be a little more…civilised."

"No," Diana replied sharply. "Not anymore. Not after Batman. On that night, everything turned black and white. And _red_. You're all barbarians now."

"So the justice system-"

"Inadequate."

"And my police force-"

"Ill-equipped for the task."

"And the law itself?" he demanded, voice angry now.

"Defunct. An eye for an eye is the only law there is now."

"So we're all to become savages then?"

She let out a tiny, contemptuous snort and walked over to the edge of the roof. She gestured to the dirty sprawl of Gotham. "Look out there, Gordon. Show me a more savage place anywhere in the world."

"So why are you _bothering_?" he asked incredulously. "Why not leave it to rot if you think it's that beyond redemption?"

She was silent for a while, and when she turned back to him he was startled to see silver tears tracking down her cheeks. "I made a promise."

"A promise to do _what_? To destroy every value Batman held? He _never _would have killed, let alone killed so often or for so little reason-"

Diana's voice lashed across the rooftop. "_Little_ reason?" The fury in her voice would probably have made even Superman take a wary step back.

Gordon, however, did not back down. "Yes! You weren't killing because it could save hundreds of lives, you weren't saving even one life! This was about your own personal gratification, making yourself feel better! This was _petty revenge _and nothing more."

"Of course it's revenge!" she shouted thunderously. "Understand this, Gordon, if you are to understand anything: there is nothing _but _revenge now!" They both fell silent, Diana breathing hard and Gordon barely breathing. Finally she swallowed and spoke again, this time sounding somewhat calmer. "I'll protect this city. I'll keep its citizens safe, happy and well. But from now on, its enemies are my enemies. You've seen that. Now what do you want me to do?"

He sighed. "If I ask you to leave-?"

"I won't. There's only one man with the power to tell me to leave Gotham, and he's dead and buried." She stared at him a moment, and suddenly seemed to soften a bit, however briefly. "I'm sorry if that wasn't the answer you were looking for, Commissioner."

"So why bother?" he asked. "Why are you telling me any of this? What's it supposed to be, a warning?"

"Precisely that. I don't want to hurt your men, or any of the good people here. But I've learned that focusing on the details doesn't work. Looking at the big picture, on the other hand…"

"I want you to try."

"To try not to kill anyone else?"

"Yes."

She opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. He'd surprised her. "Yes," she said finally. "I will try, I promise you."

"Goodnight, Diana."

"Goodnight, Commissioner Gordon."

She flew off the rooftop, and was quickly lost to the night. Gordon moved slowly over to the bat-signal, and switched it off. "How much did you hear?" he asked, turning to face his daughter, who was lingering quietly in the stairwell.

"Enough," she answered. "Will she do it?"

"Will she what? Try not to kill anymore?" Gordon turned to look out over the city. He couldn't see Diana anymore. "I think so. She was a good woman, honey, and before that she was a hero. Maybe…once the grief has faded…" he looked out over Gotham and sighed. "Maybe she will be again."

"Dad."

He turned back to her, frowning at her tone. "I don't think this is the end," she warned. "Losing Bruce- Batman," she amended when she saw the discomfort that flickered across his face., "It changed her, Dad, and not for the better."

Jim frowned at his daughter. "What are you suggesting I do, Barbara?"

"Watch her," she replied. "Dad, I mean it. Get the Justice League involved to look after Gotham now. Don't leave it to Diana."

"She's more than capable," he answered. "And, Babs...Gotham is all she has left."

There could be no denying the truth of that. She'd lost Bruce, Dick was gone, Tim had been removed from the city – even if he had come back briefly given what had happened. Honestly...with the exception of Alfred, Diana really did have nothing except but Gotham that tied her to Bruce. She wasn't sure holding onto it was healthy for Wonder Woman, but looking at her father, he wouldn't see it that way. After her mom's murder, his job had been all that kept her dad from losing his sanity. He, of all people, knew what taking Gotham away from her might do to Diana.

Of course, Babs now knew and understood the blind rage that now drove the princess. Dick wasn't dead, and he'd recover, but she'd still had wanted to go out and tear Harley limb from limb when she'd heard what had happened to him. Dick would never forgive her if she had — but Diana had lost that restraint. There was no one to express disappointment. No one whose opinion Diana gave a damn about, anyway.

* * *

Sweat wasn't something Superman was all that accustomed to. Life in general didn't make him sweat much, and he could count on one hand the number of times a fight had made him sweat. So, consequently, he was acutely aware of each drop that rolled from his forehead, down the side of his face and then went into free-fall, he was acutely aware of. When it hit the floor, it sounded like Niagara Falls. And it wasn't one drop, two, or even twenty. So far he'd counted over a hundred drops of sweat hit the floor. There was no doubt that this workout was harder than last year's.

The problem was that this was the exact same workout as last year's.

Clark knew he'd been getting weaker. He'd known since catching a space shuttle which was about to crash on re-entry a few months ago. That hadn't been a problem. No damage done and all crew had been saved, but his arms had ached the day after. His legs throbbed from where he'd briefly held the whole thing in the air before gently settling it down on the ground. He hadn't told Lois. He hadn't told anyone except J'onn, who'd kept it to himself. To give him a strength review when they weren't scheduled would have raised suspicion, or at least drawn the notice of people he didn't want to notice. Today the review had been due, so today was the day they'd find out if Clark's own estimations of his strength was correct.

With a barely concealed groan, he put the weight down.

J'onn's voice came over the gym's intercom. "We'll try another three levels up." From the control room, he pressed a sequence of buttons and with a few beeps, the weight above Superman's head increased. "This is about the weight of the Moon. Do you think you can handle that?"

"I should be able to."

Neither of them said it. 'Should' being the operative word. Superman wiped the sweat off his forehead and took several deep breaths before putting his hands on the weight. J'onn came back on. He sounded worried. "Superman, if you're in any way unsure-"

"We have to try, J'onn. We have to know for sure."

No further objection was made, or at least voiced. Clark put his hands back on the bar, and pushed. He put more pressure on slowly, increasing until he was doing it with all his might. The weight was being lifted – but just barely. And he could hold it for no more than ten seconds before he had to let it go crashing back into the cradle. His biceps burned badly. He looked: torn muscle cells and tendons. He'd pushed too hard, and still had gone nowhere.

"That's enough," he managed. "That's- I can't do any more."

He got up, surreptitiously rubbing his upper arms. Another thing he wasn't used to - pain. J'onn was waiting for him in the control room, a screen of readings scrolling up in front of him. "We have a problem," the Martian said.

Clark's frown deepened. "I know. How bad is it?"

J'onn pointed at the read-outs. "You've had a fifty percent drop in your strength in the last year. Or rather, the last six months or so. It's stabilised for now – any more and you'll actually be the second strongest member of the League."

This was bad. Diana was losing it – it was painful to admit, but it was true. She wasn't...stable anymore. Clark sighed. If he was honest, she hadn't been since Bruce had been killed. "In terms of me and her... What's the comparison?"

"You're still stronger. But not by much," J'onn said gravely. He didn't say what they were both thinking.

_If it came to a fight, you might not win. _

Clark left the room silently and went to his quarters. Not for the first time, not for the millionth time...he missed Bruce.

* * *

Dick had been in hospital for weeks: surgery had saved his life, but he'd still faced many days in the ICU before being moved to another ward. Today was the day he came home. Not to Blüdhaven, that was out of the question, but to the Manor. Dr. Thompkins had moved in to the family wing. There'd be no physical therapy — no point in that, not yet. You couldn't walk on legs you didn't have, after all. And Dick didn't have anything past the knee. The surgeons had been able to save his upper legs, though they were severely scarred. Walking again wasn't out of the question; people had prosthetic legs fitted all the time. People didn't let the handicap stop them all.

But most people did not clamber over building and chase down criminals each and every night. With the technology widely available in the US and most healthcare systems around the world, he would walk and even run again. Fighting crime, though, was an ambition that was still unattainable.

Which was why Diana did not understand Barbara's hesitation in speaking to Dick about a specialist limb replacement clinic she'd found in Switzerland. In the drawing room, she felt a little like a fussy grandmother helping him from his wheelchair into one of the huge armchairs. "Are you comfortable?" she asked him.

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, thanks, Mom."

Diana took a step back. "Sorry."

She left him alone with Tim while she went to make tea — the gods knew she needed some even if no one else did — and found Alfred and Barbara in the kitchen, talking with Leslie Thompkins. It didn't occur to Diana to stop and listen at the door, asso the voices grew louder as she approached.

"…not the distance that worries me, Alfred, it's just that…well, I told Dad earlier I don't think it's a good idea to keep going without a League presence."

"If Master Bruce had wanted the Justice League here, he would have made Gotham a protectorate. He didn't," Alfred said, his tone sounding a little thin, but firm and final.

"Do you think Dick will agree with you, Barbara?" Leslie asked.

"I don't know. I know he has his doubts."

Diana pushed open the door. "Doubts about what?"

Barbara had better sense than to blush, but Diana could still tell how embarrassed she was at being overheard. She also knew she couldn't lie to the former Wonder Woman, so she beckoned Diana closer. "I've been doing research on the fastest ways we could get Dick back on his feet, so to speak. Limb replacement, prosthetics et cetera — and there's a place in the Swiss Alps that specialises in pioneering technologies. Robotic limbs and such like that are basically cybernetics. I know it seems a little sci-fi but it sounds amazing. It would provide him with all the mobility he had before, as well as greater strength."

Diana nodded. "But?"

"But I don't think he'll want to leave Gotham for any length of time. And this could take months — he'd essentially be a guinea pig for this treatment and they would need to run all sorts of tests. Money's not an issue, obviously, but I think we'll have a hard time convincing Dick that the time-scale doesn't matter."

"Why won't he want to leave Gotham?"

"Because I'm not sure he'll want to leave you alone here."

Diana blinked. "Why?"

Barbara looked her dead in the eye, her blue gaze clear. "Because neither he nor I are confident that you can handle it alone for much longer. The Joker, I understand. Hell, the whole _world_ understands. Harley Quinn was connected to Bruce's murder as well, so that I understand too. Not to mention what she did to Dick."

Diana suddenly understood. "But you need assurances that it stops with them," she supplied.

"Exactly," Barbara agreed. "Bruce is gone, and it's changed all of us. It's changed you most of all, and Diana, _you're _the one who needs to be unchanging. You need to be stable, and strong. Otherwise, you're no good to anyone. It's my opinion we should call the League in to help you. You have too great an emotional bond to Gotham right now to be objective when you need to be."

"And how _objective _do you believe Bruce was in regards to his city?" Diana asked calmly. "I never saw him have to choose between the safety of Gotham and the safety of some distant planet, thank Hera. Still, be as honest as you are now, Barbara — do you think that he would have chosen the greater good?"

The redhead had no answer for that. Nodding knowingly, Diana continued. "You're right, I do have an emotional bond to Gotham, and I will continue to do anything I have to protect it. But I make you this promise, and I'll make the same promise to Dick: I'll think carefully before I act. Killing will _always _be the last line of defence. And I won't do it unless there is no other option. Good enough?"

When Barbara continued to look hesitant, she gentled her voice. "Barbara, I realise how Bruce would feel about what I've done. Please believe that I am not proud of it. And please believe I do not want to do it ever again."

Barbara took a deep breath, and finally nodded. "Alright. Thank you, Diana," she smiled, taking the Amazon's hands.

Diana only wished she could believed her own words as easily as Barbara seemed to. Later that night on patrol, she found herself atop on the roof of City Hall, crouched on the domed roof in the rain. It was cold, and it lashing so hard across her skin that it hurt. She couldn't take her eyes off of her hands; they had been clean to begin with, and they were even cleaner now, the rain washing away everything. To her eyes, though, they were still dirty.

Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a shadow flicker across the roof and she whirled around, almost losing her footing and slipping off in the process. There was nothing there. A startled sob left her throat. She shook wet hair out of her face. Had she really thought, even for a second-?

She missed Bruce. She tried not to think of him too often – for one thing, it was too painful, and for another, she simply didn't deserve to, not after what she'd done. But below the guilt that made her wall her memories of him off, was the underpinning fact that she just _missed _him. She missed the feeling of never knowing whether he was behind her or not, she missed his voice, she missed even the stupid headlines about Bruce Wayne's latest romantic escapade. Everything they'd ever shared, and everything they never had. Curling up, her put her head on her knees and simply cried.

"Why do you weep, my child?"

Diana stiffened at the voice, and stood up slowly, fists clenched at her sides. "I told you never to call me that," she snarled, turning to face the dark god Hades, her eyes burning in her face.

"But it is truth. Surely you must have come to see that by now," he replied, his dark eyes watching her intently, but not cruelly. "Or has the deception of your mother closed your mind so completely?"

The dam inside her cracked, just a little. "My mother has deceived me about many things," she whispered brokenly.

"I have never done so," he pointed out. "Nor would I ever."

"Go away!" she snapped.

"I will," he said, "once I have said what I came to say."

"I care nothing for what you have to say!" she retorted, preparing to take flight, intending to take a swim in the river this time. Perhaps the grime of the stinking water would help to cover up the filth of the blood that would never be washed away.

"I can help you," he said softly, taking a step closer. Diana watched him, feeling like a wild animal, fight or flight humming in her veins. She could do neither – for now she was only the mouse, watching, mesmerised, as the snake came closer.

"No one can help me," she whispered.

"You fight in the shadows, Diana. Alone, and losing. So alone. But I can teach you. One such as you should not be lost in the darkness." He stood in front of her now, and still she couldn't move, even as he took her face between his hands. "You should be _ruling_ it."

Enough of her traditional distrust returned for her to jerk away from him, shaking her head. "No… Just- Just go, leave me _alone_!"

Hades sighed in apparent regret, but drew something from his clothing in a black leather bag. He pressed the pouch into her hand. "I will do so for now," he agreed, "but should you ever need me, my child, touch this, and I will always come to your aid. Farewell, my daughter."

Diana opened the bag and tipped a necklace onto her palm; its pendent an ancient amulet the likes of which she had never seen before. It was clearly Greek in origin, and redolent with magic. She looked up again, to see Hades had gone, as he'd promised. Logic and reason told her to throw the pouch into the river, and put his visit down to him simply attempting to torture her even further than her agonised mind already had. Yet, as she flew over the river that ribboned through the heart of her city, she couldn't. All she heard were his last words. _I will always come to your aid. _

Was it possible? Could she really have something, someone, after so much _death_? After so much… loneliness?

Drawing in a sharp breath, she delivered a sharp mental slap to herself. Perhaps she could — but not Hades. He had tried to kill her once before when it was in his best interests; befriending her now was for the same reason, surely.

Nonetheless, when she returned to the Manor just as the sun dawned on Gotham got back to the mansion, the pendant was around her neck.

* * *

_She's alone in the world. Her friends are gone. Almost everyone she ever cared about lie dead around her. She's not done, though, not yet. She is Guardian of Gotham City. Her black suit is testament to that – it is battered, torn, bloodstained, as is the rest of her. Despite the bruises and cuts on the skin, she has never looked more beautiful._

_A smoke-laden breeze catches tattered hair, lifts it toward the sky. Her eyes blaze in defiance as she faces down her foe. The shots begin. Diana raises her bracers, deflects as many as she can. It's not enough. Three will get through before Flash, her only living ally, gets there._

_Three. That's enough._

_One impacts her shoulder, opening up a red laceration, forcing her to take a step back._

_Two enters just below her ribcage, punching a bleeding wound into her skin, and forcing her back once more._

_Three pierces her skin and goes directly into her heart._

_There is no scream._

* * *

**A/N: Review please!**


	16. Rainy Days and Mondays

**A/N: I've published the book! _Arthur's Witch: The Priestess_ is now available on Kindle and Smashwords, and you can download the sample for free, so it's gotta be worth a look! The blurb is below.**

_**Morgan le Fay is a woman shrouded in infamy. The original wicked witch, she is responsible for bringing the golden age of Arthur to a catastrophic end. Though evil guile, ruthless ambition and petty jealousy, she stood against the light of Britain's first Christian King, her own brother. She watched an entire kingdom burn. A subhuman monster who consorted with demons and became the Devil's mistress. **_

_**Or a woman shrouded in mystery. The original fairy godmother, she is responsible for creating the golden age of Arthur from the ground to the ramparts of Camelot. Though passion, purity of spirit and selflessness, she stood against the religious perversion which invaded her homeland and corrupted her King, her own brother. She protected an entire kingdom as a mother would a child. A High Priestess whose name and legend have been besmirched and besmeared by lesser men.**_

_**Her own story. Now told.**_

* * *

**I know, a miracle has occurred - I've updated! Thanks go to my wonderful and lovely beta, Angel Queen, and thank you for all the reviews. Here's the chapter!  
**

**Chapter Sixteen - Rainy Days and Mondays**

"Honey, sit down. There's something I… There's something I have to tell you."

There was everything in his tone and words to cause alarm, so when, accordingly, alarm appeared on Lois' face, Clark couldn't blame her. He took her hand when she sat down, putting his hand on her swollen stomach while he did so. She was due in less than two weeks, but there was no real anticipation for either of them. He'd gotten so used to worrying over everything now, for weeks, months, he'd done nothing but worry—and Lois worried for him—and it was impossible to think that something might go right. It seemed like too much to hope for, that they'd go to the hospital and come back with a healthy, happy little baby, that their lives would start again.

"What is it? Are you alright, Clark?"

He nodded. "I'm fine, health-wise."

"But…?"

"I'm not as strong as I used to be. Do you remember a few months ago, when there were those weird solar events? When the sun literally went out?"

"I remember. Over Gotham, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. Well, the thing is, the sun isn't back to normal. We can't work out what's wrong, only that solar output is weaker than it should be. Those famines in Africa, the floods in Asia—they're not coincidences. The sun is fading. Has been since…well, around the time Bruce died."

"And the sun affects you," Lois said.

"Exactly. The decreased solar output has meant that I'm not as strong as I used to be. So far, my vision and heightened sense and flight are all unaffected, but strength I'm not. I'm about half of what I used to be."

She took it well; calm breathing and serious expression. "Nothing else?"

"Nothing else."

"And if the sun went out again tomorrow, that would just… turn you human, right?"

"Right."

She sighed in relief. "Thank God."

"That's not the only thing though, potentially."

"Then what's the other thing? Unless Darkseid turns up tomorrow —"

"Well, hopefully he won't, but I was thinking closer to home."

"Diana," Lois said, so firmly and so quickly that he felt a wave of love for her. "I thought she wasn't a danger."

"She isn't, and I don't think she will be, not to us, or to anyone except someone wishing ill against Gotham or any of its citizens. But she's not as she once was, not as…well, stable. I'm not going to let her kill anyone again, Lois, no matter who they are."

"Which is where your diminishing strength might be an issue," Lois finished. She'd been calm until not three seconds ago, but now there were tears in her eyes and a sob in her voice. "Please don't do anything stupid, Clark. I can't do this without you."

"Honey, you don't have to worry about me."

She snorted loudly. "No, just like I haven't needed to worry about you for the last ten years, Smallville."

"She's one of my... She's my best friend. She wouldn't hurt me."

"Not before she wouldn't. But then and now are two very separate things, Clark. You just said it yourself—she's not as stable as she was. Who's to say she even recognises friend from foe anymore?"

Clark frowned. "She's not a wild animal, Lois."

"I know, I just… You can't blame me for being concerned, can you?"

"No."

"And you're concerned too," she pointed out. "Or else you wouldn't have said anything at all."

* * *

Routine was Alfred Pennyworth's best friend. It had, for the first ten or so years in his employment to the Wayne family, been somewhat of a drag. Tuesdays, as his days off, were cherished and looked forward to. The rest of the week, he slogged through, performing the same tasks over and over again, getting through them only to start all over again the next day. Eventually, his self-discipline was overcome, and he simply started wishing for something unexpected to happen, just to break up the monotony. His wish had been granted in the worst possible way, when Martha and Thomas Wayne were shot. Nothing broke up monotony like murder, like suddenly becoming the primary care-giver to a distraught, shattered little boy.

When that distraught, shattered little boy had grown up to help all the distraught, shattered little boys and girls of Gotham, monotony was a thing of the long-dead past. The routine had disintegrated overnight. Forensics, medical care, tracking, detection (not quite sparring buddy — Alfred had drawn the line there) had all been suddenly part of the butler's job description. Along with cooking, cleaning, chauffeuring, gardening and everything else he had always done. It had been exhausting, but never boring, and there had been no such thing as routine. Later, when Master Dick had come into the house, and then Timothy, bringing all their teenage hormones and drama with them, Alfred's life had descended into even more chaos. Nonetheless it had made sense, all fitted together somehow, a mishmash that had coalesced as a family. That family was gone now, however, a line of dominos that had fallen one after the other. Instead the house was full of distraught, shattered little strangers, and a woman Alfred no longer really recognised.

Princess Diana rarely interacted with anyone anymore, and while that was not good for either of them, it came as somewhat of a relief. They both existed in silent disapproval of the other. Alfred, because this new woman was not a patch on the joyful, delightful one had had hoped would bring true peace to Bruce – and Diana, because Alfred had flatly refused to address her by anything other than her title, rejected heritage or not. Besides which, Diana did not require the kind of help Batman had. She did not really detect anything; fear had ended the increase of crime in the city, and her approach to dealing with old crime was considerably more direct than Batman's had been. Not to mention louder and messier. She did not ever really get hurt; extraordinary healing ability saw to that. It was a shame – they had once been friends, and were now only, at best, frosty acquaintances. Far from the idea of sharing his grief with her being cathartic, Alfred found it … distasteful, somehow. His had moved beyond anger now, and Diana was deliberately holding hers there.

So without proper company, and now shirking from the idea of anymore excitement, routine had become somehow to be relished in.

Alfred's routine was this: six a.m. (though not necessary, it was now bred into him): wake up, shower, dress. Make an early breakfast for himself and those children who were already awake. At seven, the chefs (there were three) arrived to prepare breakfast for the rest of the children. As there were over a hundred residents of the Bruce Wayne Orphanage to cater for, there were far too many for Alfred to feed alone. He oversaw everything now – the housekeeper reported to him, as did the chefs, the head gardener and the rest of the staff employed to care for the children. Alfred helped with homework, with the very young ones and with the adoptions. Years of working with Batman had at least given him a sixth sense about people, so he knew who had come for a child, and who had come for a snoop around. At eight, the children were picked up by the school bus and taken to school. Alfred spent the morning dealing with household enquiries; the gardeners, or finding a decorating firm for the hallway, which child psychologists had informed him it was too dull for a really happy environment for children. At around eleven, he ran errands, whatever they may be. One p.m was lunch, then the children were back from school before he knew where he was, and evenings became a chaotic—if happily busy—swirl.

Today's errand was going to the bank, in order to set up saving accounts for all the children. There was more than provision enough for them all to have an initial investment of one thousand dollars each, then to be added to periodically until they reached the age of eighteen. It was a plan he and Dick had discussed via videophone the evening before.

Dick's treatment in Switzerland was progressing well, and he had begun to stand unassisted. Walking was still a problem, but that was because the muscles in his legs were not yet strong enough. Though the original plan had been to get Dick a pair of cybernetic legs, science had progressed even further than that. Dick's bones were, admittedly, metal, but the rest of them was flesh grown from his own tissue, his own DNA. Skin, muscles, tendons, all belonged to Dick, with the idea that they would be easier to adapt to for the patient. They would also react better to stress and wear, less liable to literally buckle under the pressure. It was conceivable that in less than five years, Dick would be able to return to being Nightwing. Alfred fervently hoped it would take much less than five years. That way everything might be rescued. Unfortunately, since the muscles were new, they needed to be greatly strengthened before any use could come of them. Dick still had a hard struggled ahead of him. But he would get there, Alfred reminded himself, grimly clinging to that sliver of hope.

He was currently sat in the back of a taxi, on his way into Gotham. The cabbie was driving extremely carefully, something to do with his rather publicly known face, perhaps.

"It's, uh, Mr Pennyworth, right? Alfred Pennyworth?"

"That's correct," Alfred nodded.

"I'm sorry for your loss, sir."

"Thank you. That's very kind."

He dropped him off that the bank with what Alfred was sure was a reduced fare, and drove away. Alfred climbed the wet, slippery steps up to the Gotham First Bank slowly, suddenly wishing he had thought to bring a stick, and then just as suddenly feeling horribly old. He hadn't felt like this before. How did one become aged in the space of six months?

Entering the bank, he saw that the queue for the reception desk alone was about thirty people long. A lot of people were, happily, being directed toward the cashiers though, so he was only queuing for about fifteen minutes. It would have been ten minutes, except he let a heavily pregnant woman who had joined the line after him go first. She had looked stunned, and slightly suspicious at the show of courtesy. He tried not to think about what the world was coming to when a pregnant woman was unused to kindness from strangers.

It was possible, though unlikely, that had he not done this, what happened next could have been avoided.

At eleven thirty four a.m., the Gotham First Bank was held up by armed gunmen. It was not held up by clever, armed, gunmen. Clever criminals would have realised that staff had no access to the time-locked safes, were safely behind bullet-proof glass with a combination pad that operated the only door to them, and that since this was Gotham, no bank hired security guards who could not shoot. There were six gunmen, and two security guards. The guards managed to kill one, and wound another, before being shot dead themselves. One of the quicker-thinking bank employees took the opportunity to dive for the silent alarm, which would summon the police.

"Everybody move!" one of the robbers yelled, gesturing for them all to gather in the centre of the room, so that they could be watched closely. "Middle of the room, now, go!"

The pregnant woman, at the sound of gunfire, had cowered to the floor, and was now wrapped in a protective ball around her unborn baby. The gunmen were not sympathetic.

"I said move, bitch! Now!"

Alfred lent down to touch her gently on the shoulder. "I think we'd better do as he says, my dear."

"I-I c-can't!' she gasped. "I can't move!"

"Of course you can," he replied firmly, hooking a hand under her arm and helping her to her feet. He didn't feel old anymore; instead curiously strong as he lifted her up.

With an arm around his shoulders, Alfred helped the trembling, sobbing woman towards the centre of the bank floor. Satisfied that they were complying with his demand, the gunman turned briefly to look at the other hostages while his companions demanded money from the cashiers. They were able to give them the money they had in the drawers; a few thousand dollars, but no more than that. He missed the pregnant woman's foot getting caught in the strap of a discarded purse, lying on the floor. She lurched forward suddenly, stumbling. The gunman saw only the sudden, unexpected movement, and reacted instinctively. He raised the gun.

Alfred, too, reacted instinctively. He pushed the woman to one side, taking the bullet meant for her. It smashed into his shoulder, with a crushing pain, shattering bones and travelling straight through, exiting the other side in an explanation of blood and bone-shards. The pregnant woman hit the floor at the same time he did, both happily alive. Though in a lot of bloody pain, in his case. There was a moment of dizzy nausea when Alfred thought he might pass out, but he didn't.

"Shit, Ferguson, what the fuck are you doing?' one of the other gunmen yelled.

"He just - I thought they were gonna attack me, it's not my fault!" Ferguson wailed.

"Check he's not dead, for fuck's sake! Last thing we need is murder charges!"

A blurry, masked face appeared in Alfred's vision. "Nah!" Ferguson called back. "He's alive, he's awake n' breathin' an' stuff."

The lead gunman turned back to threatening the bank manager. "There, now you know we're serious! Now open the damn vault!"

"I can't, it's time-locked! It'll open when the delivery of cash is due or if head office send a signal down electronically, but until then there's no way I can —"

"Wrong answer!" the gunman snapped, shooting the messenger's foot.

The resulting scream of pain echoed around the bank. When it faded though, the manager was still shaking his head. "I'm telling you, there's no way, none of us has access —"

Another shot, to his knee this time.

The pregnant woman shifted a little closer to Alfred, unwinding her scarf from around her neck and pressing it to the wound. He hissed in pain, and she whispered. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! It's my fault you —"

"Nonsense, my dear."

"But -"

"It is not a problem," he managed.

"But you took that for me, and I'm young and you're old and that's not the way these things are meant to work!"

"Then don't think of me taking it for you," he replied. "Is it a boy or girl?"

"Boy. Due in two weeks. You saved his life. What's - What's your name?"

"Alfred."

"Would you mind if I named him Alfie?"

Despite the pain, Alfred smiled. "That sounds marvellous."

She smiled gratefully, and continued crying, plainly still terrified. He could blame her. The other drama was still unfolding. By now, the managed had a bullet in each knee and each foot, and still could not give the gunmen what they wanted.

"Doesn't matter how many times you shoot me," he whimpered. "Doesn't make a difference. I _can't _give you —"

He cut off at the sound of sirens wailing from outside, drawing closer. The police had arrived. Around Alfred, everyone breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't, having seen too many bank raids like this before. Things often got more desperate and dangerous once the police were there, and now there was no Batman to help. If Diana turned up, things could very well get more violent.

Sure enough, the gunman snatched a hostage at random—a blonde woman whom he held up by her hair. He put his gun against her temple, yelling at the manager. "How about now, huh? Does it make a difference now?"

"I can't…I can't…"

Alfred used a bank counter to haul himself to his feet, clutching it to stay on them. "You need to listen to him, please!"

"Shut up, old man! You, open it!"

"It's not possible!"

"You're lying!"

"Why would he lie?" Alfred asked, hobbling closer. "He has the threat of death hanging over him. We all know our lives are in your hands —"

"I told you to shut up!"

"But you must understand there is nothing to be gained here. There's nothing he or anyone can do —"

"Shut up!"

Whether he really meant to fire or not was immaterial. He did, twice. Both bullets would have been fatal by themselves, but together they meant there was no way Alfred would survive. He was suddenly back on the floor again, pain filling his chest, blood pounding through his ears and eyesight fading quickly.

"Fuck, Smith, what the hell did you do that for? We're fucking screwed now!"

The pregnant woman's face appeared. It occurred to Alfred he had no idea what her name was. "Alfred! Oh my God, what have you done?' she screamed at the gunmen. "Alfred? Alfred, hold on, the cops are here, we'll get you an ambulance, it'll be okay —"

It quite clearly was not going to be okay though. His vision had almost completely darkened now, it was very difficult to breathe and blood was filling his mouth. His waning attention made a last stand though, when the man who had murdered him shoved the pregnant woman out of the way, pulling his mask of. His face was utterly white. His eyes were scanning all over Alfred's face. "Al-Alfred? Fuck, shit, oh my God, you - Get an ambulance, now!"

"What? Half a second ago you were —"

"Just do it, you asshole! Don't you know who this is?"

"What? Who is he?"

Alfred's hearing was fading now, so he couldn't get all of what followed, but the next thing he registered was the gunman shaking him. "Don't die!" he yelled, obviously panicked. "Oh man, please don't die, or Wonder Woman's going to kill us all! Please!"

The note of pure terror was unmistakable, but while Alfred wanted to react to it, he couldn't. "Afraid I'm…going to have to…disappoint you there…"

Then he felt a stab of annoyance. That man had used up his last second. He still didn't know what that young woman's name was.

* * *

_She's alone in the world. Her friends are gone. Almost everyone she ever cared about lie dead around her. She's not done, though, not yet. She is Guardian of Gotham City. Her black suit is testament to that – it is battered, torn, bloodstained, as is the rest of her. Despite the bruises and cuts on the skin, she has never looked more beautiful._

_A smoke-laden breeze catches tattered hair, lifts it toward the sky. Her eyes blaze in defiance as she faces down her foe. The shots begin. Diana raises her bracers, deflects as many as she can. It's not enough. Three will get through before Flash, her only living ally, gets there._

_Three. That's enough._

_One impacts her shoulder, opening up a red laceration, forcing her to take a step back._

_Two enters just below her ribcage, punching a bleeding wound into her skin, and forcing her back once more._

_Three pierces her skin and goes directly into her heart._

_There is no scream._

* * *

**A/N: Review please!**


	17. Shadow and Flame

**A/N: Thank you to the fabulous AngelQueen for the beta, and enjoy the chapter! **

**Chapter Seventeen - Shadow and Flame  
**

To say that a fury had been unleashed from hell may have been a small understatement. Diana was made blind in her rage, so much so that she did not even have a target. She welcomed it as additional fuel to her own natural strength. It had started quite cold, when the police officers had turned up at the manor and told her, with great regret, that she'd need to come and identify the body that lay in the police morgue. It almost didn't look like Alfred. It was just some strange old man. Alfred would never go through something as _undignified _as death.

"Yes," she murmured. "That's Alfred Pennyworth."

The pathologist covered his face back up with that hateful white sheet, and she accompanied the detective out of the morgue. "Tell me what happened again. This time more slowly, and clearly." Her voice was icy, leaving no room for argument.

"Well, we — There was a bank robbery," the detective explained softly, "and in defending a fellow hostage Mr Pennyworth was fatally wounded."

"I see. And the robbers? Did they escape?"

"I … They surrendered to us. Requested to be placed in protective custody. We're considering it now."

"Protecting them from me, I assume."

"Well, yes, ma'am. There are few people in this force who would arrest you as things stand at the moment. Joker and Harley Quinn, no one really batted an eye, but these men are ordinary criminals. Mr Pennyworth's death wasn't their aim. So we can't condone… You understand?'

"I understand."

She understood that she would have to find another way than tracking them down and ripping their intestines out through their mouths. She flew back to Wayne Manor, to the Cave, and seethed in the dark. Ordinary criminals. What did that even mean? As if the evil of ordinary men didn't count somehow? It was _worse._ It was pervasive, insidious, everywhere and nowhere at the same time and she — she had no idea how to fight it. Certainly with any success. How on earth had Bruce done it? How had he ever begin to? She suspected—she knew, she had always known—that it was by _being entirely human_. And Diana … she just wasn't. And worse, now she had no one to help her learn that skill. _You left me far too soon, Bruce, _she thought. _I needed more time. _It was a fallacy, maybe, but a simultaneously bitter and comforting one to contemplate: if she'd just been give a little more time with him than perhaps it would have been better, perhaps she would have learned more, adapted enough so that when she was plunged suddenly into a world without him … she could have done it.

If only her mother had not interfered ...

As it was, Batman had been wrong to assume she was ready. The thought was enough to cause a small quirk in the corner of her ironic mouth. Batman had been wrong. Wrong to think she would not fail him.

Well, dwelling on that could not do any good now. She had to do something. She had to take lives for the life taken. That was absolutely clear. She no longer knew what it was to be human, but she knew what it was to be Amazon.

She waited until night had fallen, until they were safely in a cell and away from any police officers who might get hurt. The cell was seven floors up Police Plaza, with a nice, crumbly brick wall that required almost no punching through. She did not bother to break their necks or anything like it. She simply grabbed them, hauled them out into thin air, and dropped them. For two of the three, death was instantaneous. For the unfortunate third, less so. He did not stop screaming, when he hit the ground. And when Diana drifted towards him, he screamed louder. It hit her with all the force of a freight train. What was she? What had she done, what was she doing—what was she _going _to do?

She had been lonely, she had been grieving, but now it occurred to her that she was utterly adrift. There was no connection to anything. To humanity—it had died with Bruce. To Themyscira—she had severed that tie herself. To the League—they had betrayed the memory of one of their own. She had nothing. She belonged to nobody. She was, entirely, totally, alone. A panic sparked in her chest. She turned away from her victim and flew home as fast as she possibly could. Even then, though, her refuge offered fresh reminders of her isolation. The Cave was completely silent, dark and oppressive, but — not judging. It reflected was what in her now: a void. A dull grey place that hung, suspended, in the ether. The possibility as well as the hopelessness of it was overwhelming. Pressed down by the weight of it, she sat down on the cave floor, and wept. In all her life, she had never come across this. She had always known her own mind. Always known which path to take. She didn't know what to do now—there were a myriad of wrong choices, bad decisions, before her. No right ones. No wise ones. No light.

_There is light, Diana. You need only turn back to it. Come back to me, come back to the sun, turn your face. Look at me. I am here, with you._

It was so loud, so real that for a moment her desperate imagination was fooled by the voice. She nearly saw the glowing, shimmering figure. Mingled shame and dread rose up in her, constricting her throat, when her fingers met Hades' amulet. The sensation faded. Reason returned. For a moment … but no. No. She was still alone. After the brief burst of hope, her grief seemed even heavier than before. It burst from her in loud sobs.

She could go back to the League. She could accept that she needed help and that she couldn't handle Gotham alone. She could surrender her pride and ask for help. But if she did that, what would she have left? Nothing.

"But... I have nothing anyway," she whispered.

Her throat tightened, her jaw clenched and her eyes burned. When they came, the tears felt like acid, cutting into her skin. Her chest cracked like her composure, and suddenly she couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but sob.

Without thinking, her hand went up to clasp the amulet, squeezing it tightly as she wept. The next thing she knew, he was there, pulling her against his chest. She sobbed in his arms for a long time; for Gotham, for Alfred, for her friends, but mostly for Bruce, stopping only when she ran out of tears to cry with. Hades said nothing, only did as he had promised, and was there for her, soothingly stroking her hair and murmuring crooning noises to her just as a parent should. When she'd stopped, Diana lay in the arms of the devil, wide-eyed with grief and teetering on the edge of madness.

"Teach me," she said suddenly. She moved back a little, looked into his fathomless black eyes. He stared back evenly, waiting for her to continue. He was the only constant she had. Moving quickly, jerkily, Diana took his huge hands in hers, kissed them. "Please," she begged. "Father. Teach me."

She was not stupid enough to miss the gleam of triumph in his eyes; just too wearied to care about it. Whatever the plan was here, whatever game he was playing, she would be party to it. Because at least then there would _be _a plan. But Hades was still careful with his words.

"You crave your vengeance, and it has not been satisfied by taking the clown's life. Am I right?"

She nodded. "Every criminal in this city is responsible. Everyone who made him become Batman at all."

"Then pray to Nemesis. She will be able to imbue you were greater strength and resolve. I will not be far away, my child."

His words brought a surge of relief. He wouldn't leave or betray her. Not like everyone else had - Bruce, the League, _her_ _mother_. She still had someone. He stayed where he was while Diana crossed to her altar, knelt at it and touched her head to the ground.

"Mighty Nemesis, _Adrasteia_, I beg of you - help me. Help me to gain proper vengeance on those who have wronged me. Allow me to execute justice in your name." She bowed again. "I am your vessel, to fill as you wish." She opened her eyes, staring at the small figure of Nemesis. Themis had failed her, failed Bruce, who had fought for so long in her name, however unknowingly. Perhaps Nemesis would not. "Please."

She stayed there, kneeling like that for hours, wholly obsessed. Eventually she fell asleep on her knees before the altar. She did not wake when the eyes of the stone idol turned black. She did not wake when the blackness seeped out, hovering in a cloud around her. She did not wake when slowly, bit by bit, the darkness seeped into her lungs, into her blood.

Into her very soul.

* * *

Diana woke with a stiff back and an aching neck - and resolve. It felt like a fire had been awakened in the pit of her stomach. She knew she could do it now. She could cleanse and conquer anything again. Knowing she would find him there, she turned to where Hades sat, cross-legged on the cave floor. He did not wear his spiked armour or weaponry, clad instead in clothes she might choose for meditation. She nearly laughed, but held it in. Perhaps running the Underworld required peace of mind.

"How do you feel, koré?" he asked, without opening his eyes.

"Assured. Nemesis answered my prayer."

"I knew she would." He opened his eyes, stood, stretched and smiled. Diana no longer felt afraid of that smile. "Are you ready to learn your craft?"

"I am, Father." The word sounded, tasted, strange on her tongue. She might have said wrong, once. Now it was merely unusual.

If Hades caught her hesitation, he showed no sign of it. "Then come. It is night again; let us observe your city."

Twenty minutes later, they stood on the tower of Gotham Cathedral. Rain lashed the streets, falling in horizontal sheets. Diana felt neither the cold nor the wet. Why had she been so afraid? After all, what was this city made of? Bricks and mortar. What were its people made of? Flesh and bone. Diana had proved she was capable of reducing both to rubble and ash. She had felt unequal to her task, but now— now it was laughable how unequal the task was to her.

"So this is your protectorate? Your mandate. In the old days, this city would have begged for your patronage and protection, just as Athens did with Athena. So Gotham must supplicate before you," Hades told her.

"I've no need for them to supplicate themselves before me."

"You have need of them to respect you. And the first step towards respect is always fear."

"Fear?" She cocked her head. "I do not wish them to fear me, either." Diana wondered why the words sounded so weak, even to her own ears.

"Yes you do," Hades countered. "Some of them, you do. You cannot hide your soul anymore, Diana. Not from me. There are some in this city whose souls you wish to inspire terror inside. I approve. And I can teach you how easy it is."

She nodded. With the few remaining rogues gone, the rest of them would be easy to control. "Where do I begin?"

"With the agent of man's ascension and his destruction," came the answer. "With fire."

His gaze travelled east; Diana followed it to the squat, hulking structure of Arkham Asylum. "I understand."

"Then go."

Fire was so absurdly easy to start. What was slightly more difficult was knocking out and evacuating every doctor, nurse, orderly and night watchman from the asylum without any of them calling the police. Still, she managed it. After that, it was a case of disabling the fire alarms, sprinklers, blocking fire exits. She destroyed the alarms because there would be no escape for the inmates, and hearing the sirens would only cause them terror. She didn't want their last moments to be like that—she wasn't a monster, after all.

She seeded flame in several locations around the asylum, and the blaze took around thirty minutes to take root. Diana hovered above it all, making sure there was no way for the fire brigade to stop it. Making sure no one escaped.

The police arrived, of course, but they were as helpless as the people incarcerated and cremating. When she was sure no one could stop it, she floated down to stand next to Commissioner Gordon in silence. They watched it blaze until dawn came.

"And what are we supposed to do with new prisoners?" he asked finally.

Diana sent him a cold glare. "There won't be any new prisoners, Commissioner," she said impassively.

His eyebrows shot up. "You do realise that they're not automatically going to stop breaking the law," he said. "Without the threat of prison, what will you do to the ones who carry on?"

"The ones who carry on?" she asked with a smirk. "From now on they answer to me." The smile faded as she turned her back on the still-burning asylum. "As does everyone in this city."

Before he could protest, she lifted into the air and flew away. His daughter's words echoed in his mind. _Don't leave it to Diana. Get the Justice League involved. _

Too late.

He wasn't dealing with Diana, Princess of the Amazons anymore. Gordon didn't know _what _he was dealing with now. But it filled him with more fear than Batman ever had.

* * *

_She's alone in the world. Her friends are gone. Almost everyone she ever cared about lie dead around her. She's not done, though, not yet. She is Guardian of Gotham City. Her black suit is testament to that – it is battered, torn, bloodstained, as is the rest of her. Despite the bruises and cuts on the skin, she has never looked more beautiful._

_A smoke-laden breeze catches tattered hair, lifts it toward the sky. Her eyes blaze in defiance as she faces down her foe. The shots begin. Diana raises her bracers, deflects as many as she can. It's not enough. Three will get through before Flash, her only living ally, gets there._

_Three. That's enough._

_One impacts her shoulder, opening up a red laceration, forcing her to take a step back._

_Two enters just below her ribcage, punching a bleeding wound into her skin, and forcing her back once more._

_Three pierces her skin and goes directly into her heart._

_There is no scream._

* * *

**A/N: Review please! **


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